A/N: Suggestive relationship talk and adult thinking. Thoughts are welcomed and encouraged on the T rating. Has what you have been reading seemed T-ish? Strongly T? Barely T? Beyond T?
The overhead door rolled down, sealing out the winds. And then the light that had welcomed them in went out with a pop.
Sarah sat up on the cement floor where she had been left and watched as the pair of small robots unceremoniously shuffled over into little bays. They made noises she would have sworn were the mechanical equivalent of weary satisfaction as they clicked in to place, lowered their already low chassis, and then shut down their systems and lights.
"Cute, really," she admitted to the Doctor who was already up and walking about.
He looked at her more closely. "I don't know that I have ever seen someone watch robots roll on to recharging platforms and look so jealous."
"I'm just that tired, I guess." She lay back down on the bare floor and threw an arm over her eyes.
"Let's see what we can put together for you then," he told her.
She merely listened for a minute or two. Picturing him in her mind instead of making the effort to strain to see him in the near dark shed. Deprived of sight, she realized there were things she recognized in him across the regenerations. The sound of his footfalls allowed her to visualize the confidence in his gait despite his walking in the unknown. And she knew that next sound: the stutter step in his walk when he found something he needed to examine more closely. Strange. So strange to have him be a mixture of things new and familiar.
She had loved the Time Lord who had come before. But she had been so young then and a bit volatile. And he had been little more than a child in too many ways. And here they were, finally able to love each other, if only because they had both done some very hard growing up.
Curious that two empty things didn't feel empty together. Curious. Fortuitous. And she decided, inarguably fine.
Looking around now, she guessed the room was about 15 feet on a side. It was well enough lit by the strange array of glowing power strips that she could see there seemed to be a low doorway in the far wall. And there were pallets along two of the others.
At first, she could make out the Doctor. Then she could discern only the vague movements he made as he got farther away. And then he was gone.
"Where are you?" she asked with irritation rather than fear.
She heard and saw a match flare. He had gone through the low arch and into another room.
"This is good!" he called back. "It has plumbing. Always nice. And sack cloth. And... ooh," he said, sounding ridiculously delighted. "There's some nice, dried moss."
She giggled at the childlike glee only the Doctor could have at finding dried moss on a strange moon. She was rather happy about the idea of plumbing though, she admitted.
They took turns availing themselves of what passed for "facilities," and the doctor returned from his trip dragging something.
"Two more of these bags of moss and a few of those cloth sacks and you should be set." He dumped everything down in the middle of the floor and the two of them went back for more. Soon they were pushing together more of a nest than a bed.
"It's amazing where you will sleep when you are tired enough," she said as she sunk to her knees. She pushed at what would have to pass for a pillow and then lowered herself down with a beleaguered sigh.
"So," she said in a whisper, finally asking what she had not dared before. "Are we being held prisoner?"
"Not really...." he said in his 'I'm equivocating' voice. "But we are not exactly free to leave."
"The robots didn't like the idea of us being out there. They think they need to protect us because we are too stupid to stay in the greenhouse where it is safe."
"Those handy laws of robotics, yes."
"So," she drawled, looking at her mechanical guardians. "We need to be careful not to do anything that might make these fellows think we are hurting each other."
He squinted at her and his head turned slowly. It was that new 'bird look' that she had only earned once before. She smiled harder at it, but rolled over to hide her enjoyment. "You know. No close contact that they might misinterpret for aggression between us."
"I had forgotten how insensible you could get when you are exhausted," he teased back with a bit of bite. "Go to sleep, silly girl."
She rolled around a bit, trying to get comfortable, and he caught himself staring. Watching her burrow into her nest was affecting him, he realized sheepishly. It was a trickle of warmth that ran down his midsection in a line. And at the sound of her sigh and the sight of her sleepy smile, it all tightened inside him. He couldn't stand still suddenly. He didn't dare.
"Why must you pace like that? Like some madman in a cell?" she called up at him.
"There are things which take one's reason prisoner."
"So, you are not a prisoner, but you have gone mad? Lovely. Could we have less of the random frightening quotes. Hmmm, more of the helpful fellow captive thing?" she suggested. "Is it that you are worried? Is there something you aren't telling me?"
"About getting out of here? No. We'll have this sorted out by morning. Once these fellows let us poke around a bit. Once they get busy. There will be a way back to the green house."
"What else is bothering you then?"
"Nothing."
"Right," she said with disbelief. "Please," she said as he turned to start pacing again. "I'm still cold. Would you come here?"
"I don't really have that much body heat to contribute," he protested, keeping his distance.
"It will help. Just seeing you off your feet will help."
He blew out a quiet breath of resignation, and then he brought over some more layers of sacking from the nearby pallets. Kneeling, he began to wordlessly tuck her in.
"Thank you," she said smiling up at him. "It feels so good to be warm again," came her tired voice.
"Nothing better than a warm bed," he whispered, as he sat beside her.
"Oh, there is," she told him. "Lie down."
"Sarah Jane," he said. He was half pleading with her not to tempt him and half admonishing her.
She pushed up on one elbow and reached for his tie. "I'm exhausted. Aren't you? I'm not suggesting what you think I am..." She gave him a coy look then. "I mean, not in a garden shed," she said with a silly smile.
"R-r-right," he said as if missing some obvious joke.
"It would be completely out of the question ... in a garden shed... that's not even on Earth," she said, laughing. "I mean on Earth... maybe..."
He smiled then. And used his palm to her forehead to push her back into the bedding.
He felt it, his mood was lightening because he loved her. Because he was connected to her and could draw from her emotions.
"Sorry," she said sounding at least a little contrite. "Completely inappropriate. It's like that notion, 'don't think about pink elephants.' Don't talk about what you can't do anything about..."
He smiled, getting more of a handle on the game now. "Because I might think you were.... obsessed."
"Me? Obsessed? There is this fellow I think about all the time. But I'm not OBSESSED. No."
They were quiet then sitting in the near dark. He surprised her by continuing to sit beside her.
"I'm sorry about today in the arboretum," she said, looking up at him. "Kissing you. Over-kissing you? It was bad timing. It was more than that... it was not something you wanted to handle with the TARDIS looking over your shoulder. I realized that later."
"Yes. There are things I don't want to do in the TARDIS," he said, mimicking her earlier joking lilt. And then he did something unexpected. He added playfully. "Well, when it's the first time."
Their hands were twined now. He looked down, caught by the sight. He studied their hands as if they were someone else's. "I like this," he whispered.
"You are feeling better." It was more observation than question.
"I noticed it before in the TARDIS," he said, as he lay down beside her finally. "I told you we needed to stop. And you, well, you apologized and then laughed about the situation." She was smiling now, he noticed. "You even made a joke about it. About the desire or frustration. You were able to laugh at yourself."
"And you felt better about it, too? Like a sympathetic reaction?"
"Yes. It's the way you handle things. It's your resilience. Your smile and your humor."
"So, I did help."
"Of course. You always do. Now sleep. You are exhausted."
She curled up a little tighter on her side, and he reached over her to pull the assorted bedding in tighter around her.
"I miss that old coat of yours. It was the size of a blanket. And just as warm."
"Yes," he said, softly.
"Tell me, please. So it's the last thing I hear before I go to sleep."
And he didn't have to search too hard inside himself and those dimly used places in his mind to know what she wanted.
"I love you," he said, only slightly stiffly.
...
He lay his arm across her hip and he remembered what he had confessed to her. How he wanted it to be.. 'That we would have all the time in the universe.' And there had been the thought that had followed. And I would pull your hair away from your neck. And kiss you there. He kept a bit of distance and closed his eyes. And thought about anything but the way her hair brushed at her neck... or the way her fingers had felt on his spine.
///
She woke and found his arm was under her head now. His body curled loosely behind hers.
He was sleeping, breathing audibly, in a way she realized her romance-addled brain would call 'wistfully.' Impulsively, she reached back and lay her hand on his hip. Yes, time with the Doctor assured you adventure and a good measure of the extraordinary. But right now she wanted to believe in ordinary things. Love and desire. Those feelings we register with a lover's senses. And those things only our hearts told us. She gripped the fabric of his trousers at the hip and gently pulled him in snug to her.
Two people lying together. It was simple. But that shiver of sensation at having the man she wanted at her back? It was electric. And when she heard his sleeping breath catch and felt his hips reflexively press against her, it was undeniably intimate and suggestive.
She wanted to roll over. Wake him fully, touch him, ask for more. But that wouldn't be what he wanted. He wanted control for now. He needed to wait. Besides, you are in a garden shed, Sarah Jane, on some strange moon, and you need to find the TARDIS, she reminded herself.
He groaned then, as if faintly annoyed. She felt guilty now. They were not lovers, not yet. There was no set familiarity that allowed for the possessive way she had drawn him to her while he slept.
It would serve her right if she provoked him further and he called out another woman's name, she realized.
The arm around her tightened then about her waist, and she held her breath wondering if he was asleep or awake. Was he dreaming of her or no one in particular? Was he aching the way she was? Registering that need he seemed to fear?
"There's a little hole in wall," he said. "Did you notice it last night?"
She laughed and rolled over to look at him. "Good morning."
"I thought we'd already said that," he told a little smugly.
"Did we?" she managed. She was sure her cheeks were reddening with shame when he began to smirk. "How long have you..." she stammered.
"Oh, I don't need much sleep," he said, as he sat up.
She continued then as best she could, "I didn't see any holes in the wall last night. It's certainly brighter in here now," she said, sitting up and seeing the panels in the ceiling were letting in sun light. She looked back and he was staring at her. Just staring. So, she surprised him with a quick kiss.
"Point out the hole," she prompted with a smile.
"There. I think it is for these little agricultural 'bots to move from area to area. They are adapted to moving about outside, but it makes sense that this shed might be attached to the green house."
"Alright then, so are Fred and Ginger gone for the day?" she asked, as she looked around.
"Fred?"
"I named them. Sorry."
"I heard them leave about an hour ago." His voice trailed off oddly and then he stared at her again for a bit. With a sort of impulsive movement he leaned in quickly and kissed her now. It struck her as strange and she shook her head a bit then. They were discussing robots, but it was his motions that seemed robotic this morning. It was as if he was mentally charting his course with her. Considering it. Then doing it. Or that splintered thoughts about relationship mechanics were coming to him from some darkened, forgotten room in his mind. Morning? Yes. Morning kiss then?
"Well, as long as they aren't in that room that passes for a wash room. Because that is where I am going..."
///
He stood up from his examination of the robot doorway in the wall and turned abruptly to meet Sarah as she returned. He was all business suddenly. There was a tape measure in his mouth that he did not think to remove before attempting to speak.
"Come here," he seemed to be saying. He ran his hands down from her shoulders to her hips then. And there his hands lingered. It was a 'tsk, tsk' she heard as he spat the tape into his hands and pulled it taunt across her front. "You've gained an inch across here."
"Hello!" she objected. "You know you aren't exactly the same size, shape, or personality from 15 years ago, either," she accused.
"Yes, but that is working to our advantage here. I wouldn't have fit through that hole before."
"Certainly, your ego wouldn't have," she told him.
"What?!"
"Sorry. I'm still mad about the hips thing. We're even now. But," she said, suddenly. And she then grabbed him by the trouser pockets. "As long as we are measuring, what makes you think you are going to fit.... any how?" Firm hands ran down his hips, giving him the clinical treatment.
"A little gentle there if you please, Miss. I'm usually the only one in my pockets."
"You've got a lumber yard in your pockets. And your trousers alone add two inches, they are so baggy. I may be carrying an extra inch. You are carrying three."
"I can take these off," he said, saucily.
She bent down and peered into the small square hole. She looked over her shoulder at him and told him, "I hope you have to."
"Have you read your Milne?" He fired back as he squatted down next to her and pointed at the hole.
"Milne?" she said drawing a temporary blank.
"As Pooh Bear said once he was stuck, 'Et tu, Rabbit?!' "
A/N: Thank you, folks for reading and reviewing. I love writing this story. I really appreciate you reading it.
"There are things which take one's reason prisoner." That is very loosely from Shakespeare.
