A/N: This is a scene that deserves some warnings. It is T. Pretty light T based on what I have read out there. But I wanted to go on record that there are adults in this chapter implying they will do adult things.
Once I decided how to attack this chapter, it came along quickly. Hence the speedy update. Yes, we've gone horribly AU here. But I would like to think we have done it with style and humor. And that the characters are IN character while being out of their depth.
I'm rather happy with how this chapter turned out. Feel free to let me know if you like it, too.
"Will you marry me?" he asked in a determined voice.
"For six months or six years or sixty," he told her. "I will try not to disappoint you. But it will still happen."
She pushed a hand gently through his hair and smiled down at him. And then she frowned. Feeling horribly disloyal, she pulled her touch from him and moved her hands awkwardly to her sides. "I don't know what to say."
He dragged himself back on to his feet with a groan. "You could have told me you were going to say 'no'," he complained as he rubbed his knees."
"I didn't say 'no.' I said I didn't know what to say."
"Which is not 'yes.'" There was a long pause while he put some distance between them. "And that makes sense. I mean, the type of woman who will drop everything and follow some mad man into a police box. Traipse across worlds, hot, cold, wet or dark. Put herself into danger to chase down an answer. That woman ... well..."
"What?!" she demanded.
He walked over to the controls and turned a few dials.
"I am simply saying that kind of woman MIGHT have priorities other than marriage."
"Oh my God, THAT is the pot calling the kettle black. You don't think MAYBE it could be that I abhor failing at things and that there is a huge chance that marrying you would never work? Just how much do we have in common?"
"Other than a perverse desire for excitement and a lack of relationship sense?" She had been prepared to take that as an insult until she noticed the hint of a smile on his face. "You know, it can be bad to have too much in common," he continued "Too much in common and there are actually laws against getting married," he teased.
"You're insane."
"Mmmm. Possibly," he said, as he continued to hit buttons, making everything in the control room hum. "But YOU understand me better than anyone. What does that say about you?" He was trying not to steal a look at her. Trying not to let his faint smile get any larger. It wasn't working.
"Get away from the controls. I know you aren't actually doing anything."
"Why can't I be at the controls!?" he asked, as he backed up.
"Because I know I'm not allowed to touch you when you are fiddling with the TARDIS. And I'm going to touch you."
"A good touch.... or.." he joked.
"It's part of the apology that's coming and also, I just really like touching you." He extended his arms in invitation as she walked toward him. They stood forehead to forehead then. "I love you and I'm sorry," she told him. "I handled that badly. Your proposal was brilliant. And I just panicked. I should be used to impossible things happening when I'm with you. But I'm not." She sighed. "I'd like it if we went back to my house. I could get a hot shower. I would wrap my arms around you all night so you can't escape. And in the morning, I would check my answering machine, call in to work, clear my calendar, and then I'm yours. For better or worse. Married or not. We'll figure it out. Um, does that work?"
"Check your answering machine, call into work, clear your calendar?!" he taunted. "The intrepid adventurer has changed."
"Guilt. I grew up and developed guilt over just leaving people in the lurch. Plus, I would really like to pack a thing or two if we are going off again. A good sports bra, some running shoes. My favorite quilt. Maybe I'll find those camo pants you like? Also, I never liked your towels." She kissed him to ease any sting from the insult levied against his bath linens.
"Let me make sure I've got this then," he teased. "Your place, hot shower, wrapped up with no escape? Answering machine, call work, clear calendar, camo pants, all mine? And by the way, I WAS doing something." He stepped away from her to operate the door control. She saw it then, her garden bathed in a summer evening's long shadows.
"Home," he told her.
///
"I'm going to take a shower. You get ready for bed." That was the last thing she had told him before she had walked into her bathroom and left him standing in the middle of her bedroom.
You would think it was the most difficult problem I've ever been set, he chastised himself. He stood there for 5 minutes looking from the bathroom door to the overnight bag that sat at his feet. He listened to the water running, lost as to what to do.
Oh, there's no shortage of possibilities, he acknowledge to himself. Ranging from removing all my clothing and surprising her in the shower to continuing to stand here, fully dressed and staring at the door like an imbecile.
I think my pride demands I eliminate the latter.
He shuddered then as his mind turned loose to explore the other thought. I think I should eliminate the former, as well.
He roused himself. Literally shook his head to get the thoughts going. And then a new way to approach this occurred to him.
I will just follow her lead.
///
"Sarah?" he said, as he let himself into the bathroom 20 minutes later.
She turned off the water and then stood there stunned, looking up at the shower head. "What are you doing in here?" she called out.
He, in turn, addressed the ceiling. "I was going to wait in your room. But then I could see that was going to lead to an incredibly awkward scene when you came out. And I figured you might not have a plan. You might be wondering, 'Should I put something on if I only hope to take it off in the next 10 minutes?' I thought I could save you all that. So... here's a towel."
A hand reached around the curtain, and she numbly took the proffered towel.
"So, this way I don't have to worry about that awkwardness? Just THIS awkwardness?" she said, her voice a wee bit higher than normal.
"And now I can stop wondering if it would be imprudent to remove some or all of my clothing before you came out." He sounded so proud of himself for figuring a way out of this that she was getting awfully curious.
"So what are you wearing?"
"Come out and see."
"Not before I get another towel," she sang back with a bit of impatience.
"Why?"
"This is a hand towel. I'd really like something larger..."
She listened intently to the shuffling noises coming from the other side of her shower curtain, while clutching the small blue towel to her front.
"Here you go," he said. And a hand and bare forearm reached into the shower holding one of her bath towels.
She wrapped it around her, firmly tucking in a tail so it would stay up. She knew there was no other way out of this. Well, she could just tell him he was insane for the third time that day and order him to clear the bathroom. But he was right. She had stood in that shower for way too long wondering how to make her entrance into the bedroom once she was done. She had devoted another 10 minutes of hot water to wondering what to expect from him when she finally appeared. Suddenly, that was not the concern at all, she realized with a little laugh.
"What's so funny in there?" he demanded.
She held the hand towel as a sort of prop and slowly opened the curtain.
"You are wearing one of my towels?" It was a horrendously stupid question. It was quite obvious that that was what he was doing, as there was not another stitch of fabric on the man. But then his state of undress would explain why she was suddenly given to idiocy.
"I thought towel parity was the best option. This seemed equitable. Safe. It was a very recent plan. If I have miscalculated..."
"You're all wet," she said.
"I showered down the hall while you were ..."
And she noticed his eyes had failed to hold hers and were drifting south. He was momentarily speechless. And she liked it. Having passed 40, she was much more receptive to the idea of being blatantly oogled. And true parity did demand that their apparel should interfere with his brain processes as well. She bounced the hand towel off his chest and that seemed to bring him around.
"I've seen you in less," he said, swallowing hard. "But the effect now is.... more."
"Flatterer. Now, give me your hand," she said, reaching for him. "An inelegant exit from the tub is not an option."
The few steps into her bedroom were managed together with coy smiles and silence. She turned then and almost gingerly put her arms around him, aware that it would be a shock to feel his skin under her palms and against her bare arms.
He kissed her and she felt her nervousness mirrored in him.
Still she wanted to explain somehow. She needed him to know tonight was not an ordinary turn of events for her. But also that her hesitancy had nothing to do with him.
"It's ...been a while." She floated the words out there. And made them both question and statement.
"Mmm," he agreed, "Yes. A long time."
"Years," she admitted, as she rubbed her forehead against his.
"Oh, at least a hundred."
She smiled at that. Kissed him. Experimented with moving her hands and learning the feel of the muscles across his back.
He twirled a wet strand of her hair around his finger.
"What are you thinking, Pooh Bear?" she asked him, gently.
"That there's nothing like the first time."
She thought about that a long while, watching him intently. Enjoying the look to his face, seeing that he plainly loved her.
"I don't know," she said. It was not just that she wanted to remove the sense of expectation, but also that her perspective was changing. She didn't need any more than just this one more first time. "That 100th time," she told him. "That must be good. To be together that long. To still love and want each other. And that thousandth time? How amazing would that be? Together so long that you aren't still the same people any more really."
"Changed, hmmm. Like we are already?" he kidded.
"Maybe not that much," she answered him.
There was a pause. Some kisses that proved the nervousness was working its way out.
"What will you call me?" he asked her.
"What do you mean?"
"You have not managed to call me 'Doctor' since shortly before the incident with ... well, without the trousers. In fact, the only form of address you have used with me since then has been the two times you've called me 'Pooh Bear.'"
"I hadn't noticed." He gave her a disbelieving look. "I guess everything feels very different and you are something different to me now."
"Obviously."
"And 'Doctor' seemed less.... right."
"So, what do you want to call me? I mean, a real name. 'Pooh Bear' won't work under most situations.... like ones where any other living being is present."
She laughed. "You must already have a name," she suggested.
With an over-done pout, he leaned in and whispered it to her.
She began to snicker before he'd even finished. He tried to looked peeved.
"I see your problem," she said. "I don't think I can manage that." And she hugged him tighter in consolation. Rocked in his arms.
"You are free to make suggestions then," he told her.
It was wonderful, languid foreplay. Unlike anything she had ever known. She leaned back, letting him hold her. And she traced his arms with her fingertips while she watched him. Scoured his face with her eyes while one deft hand of his made slow circles across her back. . And with a strangely patient ease, she waited for her heart or head to name him.
"It should be something to go with the wonderful way you roll your Rs, I think," she said, finally.
"That being my most endearing feature currently."
She smiled then as the warmth in him enveloped her. Came to excite her in his slow, unassuming way.
"You have many endearing features, I find," she told him.
"Even now?" he asked, eagerly.
"Yes, now," she assured him. "Does your ego require that I detail them for you?"
"Mmm, possibly ...later." His statement came out with such an air of uncertainty that she wondered, did he worry about taking her to bed? He was so ill-at-ease at times. Was he as anxious as she was?
Maybe more?
"A name," he prompted, interrupting her thoughts. "Would it help if I had one?" He kissed her in answer to her uneasy look. "Frasier?" he said then, in a strong, sure voice. And his hands seemed more powerful against her skin suddenly. She pulled in tight to him, twined a leg around his in response. "Malcolm?" he suggested between kisses against her neck. "Tavish?"
"Duncan," she heard herself croak. "But..."
"Duncan it is then," he told her, in full, warm tones meant to delight her.
His words seemed to mark a point of embarking. They both sensed it. Gently, she removed her hands from him and moved to the light switch. Once the bedroom light was out, there was just the light from the bath. As if taunting them, it cut an angled path across the floor and to the bed. He looked back as if he would switch it off, too. But she said, "Duncan, Love. Leave it."
He seemed a half beat behind. Not moving for the bed until she was already kneeling on it and obviously waiting for him.
Finally, he stood by the bed. His knees biting into the side as he leaned in to touch and kiss her. He tried to climb in, but he felt her arms stiffen against him. He felt her kiss turn into a mischievous smile.
"What?" he asked with confused amusement.
"No wet towels in bed," she said, as if lecturing him.
And then she handed him hers.
///
Thanks so much for reading, guys!!
