Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started.
Notes: This is the sequel to Chemical Potential. This story takes place between Chapter 10 and the epilogue of Chemical Potential: James and Rose have just agreed to start dating and are snogging in the middle of the dining hall. This story will follow the evolution of their romantic relationship... therefore the rating will eventually go up ;)
Chapter 1:
In one of the far recesses of her mind, Rose realized that she and James weren't alone. Granted, there were only about half a dozen people in the dining hall—what with it being the last day of final exams before winter break—but still. There were half a dozen people who were witnessing the rather heated snog they were engaged in.
His hands roamed restlessly across her body, though they always remained in a perfectly appropriate location. They wandered from her hair to her cheek to the nape of her neck to the small of her back.
Jimmy had had no qualms about copping a feel of her bum and breasts in public, despite her asking him not to. She was adding this to the ever-growing list of how much better James was than her ex-boyfriend.
Reluctantly, Rose began to ease them out of the kiss. James recognized the gesture, and he popped his lips away from hers. He rested his forehead against hers as he panted softly for breath, then he planted a long kiss to her brow before taking a step back.
"What now?"
The rasp in his voice sent liquid heat pooling in her belly. She tightened her core slightly in hopes of alleviating the throbbing ache between her legs.
"What'd'you mean?" she asked, raking a hand through her surely disheveled hair.
"Well… did you want to stay in the dining hall all day?" he asked. "Do you have plans, or do you want to hang out for a bit? Relax together, now that exams are over and we've got an entire month before the new semester begins?"
"I need to go pick up my art project," Rose said. "I told my professor I'd get it this morning. But after that, I think I can pencil in some time for you."
He stuck his tongue out at her, but grinned goofily at her.
"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to her winter coat.
She nodded, and as she slipped into her coat, he began stacking their empty breakfast plates onto the tray. He then shrugged into his own jacket and picked up the tray of dishes. After placing them at the dish drop-off window, he threaded his fingers through hers and guided her outside.
The sun was bright and the sky was clear, which only bolstered Rose's good mood. Their clasped hands swung lightly between them as they made their way across campus and to the art studios. Rose became a bit nervous as they approached her professor's office.
She knocked on the open door. "Hi Dr. Rivas. I'm here to collect…"
"Ah, Rose. Excellent," the brusque woman interrupted. "Yes, I've got your portfolio here. What an excellent job you've done this semester. Excellent, excellent, excellent. Will I be seeing you in any of my classes in the spring?"
Rose grimaced. "Sorry. Perhaps next year."
"I hope so. A fine artist you'll make. Enjoy your break. Enjoy…" Dr. Rivas finally seemed to realize Rose wasn't alone; she lifted her brows at James. Rose's cheeks burned as the professor said, "Aha! So here is the muse!"
James furrowed his brows at Rose, but she pretended not to notice.
"Thanks," Rose mumbled, taking the large black portfolio case. She slung the strap over her shoulder. "Have a nice holiday."
"You too. You too."
Rose nearly shoved James out the door and back down the corridor.
"The muse?" James asked. A broad smile slowly lit up his face. "Rose Tyler, did you paint me?"
"Might've done," she muttered, glaring down at the floor. The project had been about transitions; she painted the transition of them, from total strangers to friends to a girl in love with her best mate.
James bumped his elbow against hers as they strolled down the corridor. "Don't be embarrassed. I'm sorry. I'm flattered. Genuinely flattered that someone would want to paint this ol' mug." He gestured vaguely to his face.
"Who wouldn't want to paint that? You're beautiful." He snorted, and she frowned. "Seriously. You're one of the handsomest blokes I've met."
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He didn't say anything more, but he looped his arm through hers and led her outside.
Though the car park—parking lot, Rose corrected—only had a handful of vehicles, James's car was in the very last row.
"I try to encourage myself to walk more," he explained sheepishly.
"You're so fit, though."
"Thanks, and I intend to stay this way as long as I can," he said. "I don't go to the gym though, and I only occasionally take walks for fun. Forcing myself to walk long distances to and from my car helps a bit."
They reached his vehicle and he unclasped their hands to dart forward, opening the passenger door for her.
"I'll put your bag in the back," he said, holding out his hand for it.
She unslung the portfolio from her shoulder and slid into the car. After carefully setting the portfolio on the back seat, James hopped into the driver's seat, started the engine, and made his way to Rose's flat.
The drive took less time than usual, since the town was cleared of most student traffic. However, the city parking authority had provided free parking on the weekends as a holiday gift, which meant many of the meters were taken. It took a few extra minutes to circle the surrounding blocks, but James eventually found a parking spot up the street from Rose's building.
He carried her portfolio for her as she guided him into her building and up the narrow staircase to her fifth-floor flat. When they made it to door 504, Rose fished her keys out of her coat pocket and fumbled with the door. She would have to call maintenance soon; the door handle kept sticking and it sometimes took a minute for her to get her key into the lock.
"Can I see what you painted?" James blurted as she jiggled the handle, trying to coax the key to turn. "Obviously you don't have to share them. But I would very much like to see more of your art. I've seen your photographs and they're stunning. I would love to see your paintings. Only if you want to, though."
"Sure," Rose said, shouldering open the door victoriously. "Keep in mind, painting isn't really my specialty though. I prefer taking photos."
"Your professor seemed impressed," James hedged.
Rose allowed herself a small, proud smile before she hefted her portfolio bag off his shoulder. Instead of unzipping it, she glanced at him. "It's a better effect if they're all in order. D'you mind closing your eyes for a minute so I can get everything arranged?"
He nodded. "Actually, can I use your loo? Then I'll stay in there 'til you tell me to come out."
Rose pointed down the short hallway. "S'the door on the left."
He gave her a two-fingered salute and shuffled down the hall. When the door clicked shut, she opened her portfolio and began rummaging through it, organizing all of the portraits and scenes detailing her and James's evolving relationship over the course of the semester.
It didn't take her as long as she'd thought, since everything was more or less in order already; she was finished at the same time the toilet flushed and the sink faucet turned on.
"You can come out now," she called down the hall when the sink shut off.
James appeared a few seconds later, wiping his palms against the rear of his jeans. His eyes zeroed in on the stack of paintings she held. He folded himself onto the floor beside her, excitement radiating off of him. Her heart squeezed; nobody had ever been so genuinely eager to see her art before. Her mum had thought it good but not a "marketable skill"; Jimmy had thought it was a "nice hobby".
She leaned up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He giggled low in his throat and angled his head to try to clumsily return the kiss.
Rose steeled herself and kept her focus trained on the paintings in her arms. "Right. Here goes."
She set down the first painting in the series. It was a dark painting of their chemistry lecture hall. The entire room was veiled in shadows, with silhouetted classmates scattered around the room. But in the center of the painting was James. Well, the back of his head. For the first month or so of the semester, he had sat in the row in front of her, treating her to a glorious view of his hair, the nape of his neck, and the subtle flex of his back and shoulders as he took notes and fidgeted during class.
This painting had been one of the trickiest to do. She had tried to make it impersonal, as though she wasn't aware of the manic energy bubbling just below the surface, as though she wasn't aware of how his hair shone red and gold when it caught the light a certain way, as though she wasn't aware of him at all.
"Oh, beautiful," James breathed, studying the painting.
Rose handed him the next one. This one was also dark; however, the center of the painting was bright, highlighting the figure leaning against a wall. She had painted James as she had seen him outside the loo on the day she had received back her first failed chemistry exam. The background was shadowed but James was thrown into stark relief by the glaring fluorescent lights. He wasn't looking at her, but rather at his shoes, with his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets.
"I'd been crying my eyes out in the loo just moments before," Rose said, "and then there you were, and you made me feel better without doing anything at all. I never thanked you for that. So thank you. You made a shitty day a little less shit."
"That should be on my gravestone," James said. "Here lies James Smith… he made peoples' shitty days a little less shit."
Rose shoved her shoulder into his, but laughed. "Git."
She then handed him the next painting. This one finally did not have a dark background. Instead, it showed James sitting in front of a huge stack of pancakes, backlit by the wall of windows in the dining hall. He was staring at his food, but his mouth was open in conversation and his hands were gesticulating wildly.
"Not my most flattering angle," James said with a wince. "Do I really look that mad when I speak?"
"Only when you get excited," Rose said. "Which is a lot." After a beat, she added, "I love that you get so enthusiastic about what you're talking about."
He made a noncommittal humming noise.
"I couldn't very well leave our first date out of this series," Rose teased.
He cracked a smile and glanced back at the painting before admitting, "There were so many times I'd wished we were on a proper date."
"Me too. Especially when we went to Philadelphia together."
Rose handed him the next portrait, which was a series of renderings of all of the selfies they'd taken together during the trip to Philly. She had marveled once that their selfies had gotten warmer and more comfortable as the day went on, and she had tried to emulate that in her paintings. She tried to show herself and James going from standing somewhat awkwardly side-by-side, to eventually slinging their arms around each other's waists and beaming at the camera.
"God, I feel like I'm falling in love with you all over again," James said, sticking his face so close to the canvas that his nose nearly touched it. "Rose, these are brilliant."
She smiled and handed him the next painting, which was her second favorite in the series. She'd painted James during election night. While there had been many memories of her and James from that night, she had elected to paint James with his cats instead. She'd had to stretch her imagination slightly with this portrait, since she'd never quite seen him and his cats interacting like this, but she'd painted James reclining on his couch with Merry in his lap and Pippin standing on his chest. Merry was sleeping, but Pippin had his little nose and forehead pressed to James's. James's eyes were closed but he was smiling softly.
"You even painted Gollum!" James crowed, delighted.
Indeed, in the background, she'd painted the vague shape of a cat tree, with a scrawny Siamese cat lurking within one of the boxes. His face exuded disgust as he watched James from afar.
"How on earth did you get his eyes to glow like that?" James asked, tilting the portrait towards the light.
"Magic," Rose said, sticking her tongue out at him.
He rolled his eyes and set the painting to the side. "You're making me look so soft."
"You are soft," Rose said simply. "And that's not a bad thing. You are kind and thoughtful and smart, and you have so much love in your heart. Honestly, watching you with Merry and Pippin made me fall in love with you on the spot. Like how guys get a hundred percent more attractive when they're playing with a baby? Same thing. Could've shagged you rotten against your kitchen table."
James squeaked, his ears and cheeks turning bright red. "I'll, er, I'll have to thank them." He coughed. "You know… I wouldn't've minded. If you'd wanted to… if you had… against my table."
"Knowing now that you've never had sex, I would have minded." James deflated a bit, and Rose winced as she realized how her words came out. "Not like you're thinking. It's just… you deserve a better first time than a quickie shag against a table."
"I don't mind how or where, s'long as it's with you," James mumbled, looking a tad embarrassed.
Rose wrapped her arm around his waist and rested her cheek at his shoulder. "Can I tell you something? When Jimmy and I first… y'know… it was awful. We'd been dating for a couple months and had fooled around a bit, but hadn't yet done the main event. I was sixteen and still in school at that point, and still living with my mum, who didn't approve of him at all. So we always had to sneak around. My first time was in the back seat of his mate's car. We'd had to be quick about it, and… well, let's just say I wished there had been a bit more space to move about and readjust and whatnot. And we'd rush into it before I was, er, ready…
"My point is, sex anywhere other than a bed gets a bit tricky. And you have to focus on your surroundings a bit more. I want to enjoy my first time with you, James, and vice versa. I want it to be about me and you, so I would really like to stick to a bed for the first time. After that, we can get adventurous."
He giggled and planted a kiss on the top of her head. "I would love to get adventurous with you, Rose Tyler. Can I see the rest of the paintings now?"
"There's only a couple more," Rose said.
She handed him the penultimate painting, and her favorite of the series. She'd painted James asleep on the couch, blankets pulled up to his chin. It was from when she had stayed with him all night on the anniversary of his parents' death. In sleep, the exhaustion and sorrow of the day had melted away, leaving behind an ordinary twenty-two-year-old boy.
"Did you photograph me sleeping?" he asked, his voice choked.
Rose furrowed her brows. "No."
He blinked at her. "You did all of this from memory?"
"Mhm."
"Blimey." He exhaled, long and low. "Rose, you… you're…"
The words seemed to get stuck in his mouth. Instead of trying to spit them out, he set the painting on the floor and wrapped his arms around her waist. She returned the embrace, glad that James was so positive about being used as an art subject.
"One more," she murmured into his neck.
"Hmm?"
"One more painting," she clarified.
Rose pulled back from their embrace and nudged the last painting into his hands. James stood in a kitchen in front of a dishwasher, his face lit up in a small but joyful grin. His happiness illuminated him from the inside out, casting a halo of brightness around his body.
"I'm never this happy to be doing dishes," James drawled.
Rose flicked his arm. "Twat. This is from Thanksgiving. When you tried to ask me out on a date."
"Ah, yes. The date you turned me down flat for."
"Shut up. You know why I said no. And I didn't even say no. I told you to ask me after exams."
"And here we are," he said, a tad smugly. His expression then softened. "These are all beautiful, Rose. Beautiful. Thank you for sharing them with me."
Her cheeks heated deliciously, and she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then nestled his cheek in her hair.
"What are your plans for winter break?" he asked quietly. "Are you… are you off to London for the month?"
"No, I'm staying 'round here. Why?"
"You don't want to see your mum?"
"My mum and I don't exactly see eye to eye on many things," Rose said. "Not only is a plane ticket more expensive than I can afford, but my mum and I could use the time apart. We make do with texting and video chats every now and then."
James nodded. "Have you, er, told your mum about me?"
"Absolutely not," Rose said, already grimacing at how that conversation would go.
"So, Mum, I've got a new boyfriend."
"Oh, yeah? Finally putting yourself out there again?"
"Yeah, he's great."
"You thought Jimmy Stone was great, too."
"Well, this time I know I'm right."
"Hmph. Well, just be careful. I'm not there to bail you out."
"What's that supposed to mean?" James asked, wounded.
Rose cringed. "I didn't mean it like that. My mum has a way of disapproving of everything in my life. I'm so happy right now, James. This relationship… being with you… it's new and shiny and exciting, and I'm not ready for my mum to question me about it, y'know?"
"Would your mum really question you about it?" James asked curiously.
Rose snorted. "One day, when you meet my mum, you'll understand. I know my mum loves me deeply, but sometimes she goes about showing it a little backwards. And she can be a tad judgmental. But enough of her. Have you told your Aunt Sarah about us?"
His cheeks pinkened delightfully as he confessed, "I, well, I told her I liked someone at school. Well, more than liked."
"You loooove me," Rose sang, a stupid grin splitting her face.
"Oh, shut up. You love me too," he said, knocking his shoulder against hers.
"I guess so," she said nonchalantly, but she leaned up and pecked a kiss to the corner of his mouth to make sure he understood she was teasing. She then spun away from him to painstakingly put her paintings back into her portfolio. "So, what'd'you want to do today?"
"Well, I've got an idea," James said, rubbing his palms up and down his thighs. "If you're agreeable. It's just… it's December. And you've hardly got any Christmas decorations. There are some great thrift stores nearby that have some neat decorations for a reasonable price. Wanna do some shopping?"
Rose glanced around her small flat. She had some fairy lights strung across the walls and ceiling, but apart from that, she had nothing. What with final exams, she'd hardly paid attention to the impending holidays, but now she was eager to get into the festive spirit. There were still eight more days until Christmas, plenty of time to decorate.
"Yeah, that sounds like fun," Rose said.
James perked up, as though he'd expected her to decline. He grinned and jumped to his feet. "Brilliant!"
His excitement was infectious. She laughed as he hauled her to her feet and held out her coat. When they were wrapped up against the December chill, James guided her out to his car.
They spent the entire afternoon bouncing from shop to shop, collecting a variety of decorations and ornaments. Rose had to reign James in when he dumped everything she cooed over into the cart he was pushing.
"Let's take a look at the whole shop first, then we can come back for the ones I like best," Rose said. "I don't want to spend too much money."
"Oh, it's all right," he said, "I can chip in."
Rose took in a deep breath and counted to five. "James. Remember our discussion in Philly over the cheesesteak? You can't offer to buy everything just because you have the money. Even though we're dating now, that still doesn't mean you can swan in and buy things for me."
"But…" James deflated slightly. "I'm really not allowed to buy you things? Aren't boyfriends supposed to dote on their girlfriends?"
"There are other ways to dote," Rose said. "Don't feel like you have to spend money on me. 'Cos…" She scuffed her toe into the tile floor. "I won't be able to spend a lot of money on you. And it makes me feel bad."
"You don't have to spend money on me," James insisted.
"And you don't have to spend money on me," Rose said.
James ground his teeth, his jaw working from side to side as he regarded her. "This is going to be very hard for me. I… I see things that remind me of my friends, and I buy it for them. I don't think twice about it. I love doting on the people I love. I love buying things for them and taking them places and… Can't you compromise a little bit with me on this? Let me buy you something today? I'll try to not be obnoxious about it, but every now and then, I might have a little something for you. And I won't mean for it to upset you or make you feel guilty."
Rose chewed on the inside of her cheek and debated for a minute on whether she should explain. Well, she knew she ought to explain, but whether she wanted to share this nugget of information with James. In the end, her desire for him to know every piece of her overrode any other reservations she had.
"Jimmy would get me little gifts sometimes," Rose said softly. "Little 'just because' gifts. Only he kept track of them, and would expect something in return. Not a gift, but other things. Like if he wanted to have sex or something when I wasn't in the mood, he'd bring up whatever trinket he'd last given me. Or if there was something we were shopping for and I thought something he wanted was too expensive, he'd remind me that he'd spent X amount of money on me. They stopped becoming 'just because' gifts but instead a way for him to guilt me into doing what he wanted.
"It's not that I think you're doing the same thing. But he sort of left a bad taste in my mouth regarding gift-giving. And I hate him for that, for ruining something that should have been sweet and lovely, like what I think you're trying to do. And I'm so sorry about that."
James's face was a mixture of devastation and fury. He set the little snow globe he'd been holding back on the shelf and stepped up to her, arms open. She tucked her face into his chest, breathing in the scent of him and relishing the feel of his arms around her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again, mortified at herself. It had been over three years since she split with Jimmy; she was pathetic for still letting him control parts of her life.
"You don't have to apologize," he murmured, swaying them slowly from side to side in the middle of the aisle. "I'm sorry, Rose. I'm so sorry he was such a wanker and that he did those things to you."
"It's frustrating," she grumbled, "to randomly get these little reminders of him. I don't want to be like this. I don't want to be wary of people getting me gifts. But the moment someone hands something to me for free, I start thinking of all the ways I can repay them. I hate it."
"We can work on that together, if you want," he said tentatively. "I mean… I don't presume to think you need my help. Or to think you want me to help you with this. Or that you need to work on anything. I'm gonna stop talking now. Thank you for sharing that with me, Rose. Thank you for trusting me to tell me about him."
"I would love to work on my aversion to gifts with you," she said, a teasing edge creeping into her voice. "Tell you what. You can buy me one thing. One thing. And nothing over ten quid… er, ten dollars."
"Twenty," he negotiated.
Rose rolled her eyes and pinched his waist, though he probably didn't feel it through his coat. "Fifteen."
He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Fifteen." He paused. "What if I find two things for you that together equals fifteen dollars?"
"Don't push your luck, mister," she replied, but she pulled back to wink at him. She then rocked up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Thanks for listening. And for understanding."
They spent the rest of the afternoon browsing through shops and collecting a variety of decorations and ornaments. True to his word, James bought her one thing: a small artificial Christmas tree that he managed to negotiate down to exactly fifteen dollars.
Rose had gone slightly over her hastily-made mental budget, but she mollified herself with the fact that these decorations would last her for many future Christmases.
It was dark by the time they made it back to Rose's flat, laden down with boxes and bags. They began sifting through them immediately, working together to deck her halls with holiday cheer.
From snowmen figurines to ceramic trees to gingerbread houses, they scattered all of the decorations across every single flat surface. James took charge of hanging things, carefully hammering nails into the walls while Rose assembled her artificial tree.
By the time they were done, Rose was thoroughly pleased with how everything had turned out.
"Looks great," James enthused, collapsing into an exhausted heap on her small sofa.
Rose allowed herself to drink in his lanky frame as his attention hopped around her flat, admiring their work. How were his legs that long? His jumper had ridden up and exposed a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans. She ached to touch it, to see if his skin was as soft as it appeared.
She quickly averted her eyes as James lifted his gaze to her.
"Can I take you to dinner?" he asked, fiddling with his sleeve. "There's a good pizza place a block or two down the street. We can walk."
"Yeah, that sounds great. I'm starved."
They gathered up their coats and once more departed into the chilly December evening.
The restaurant was fairly empty, thanks to the student population of the town having left for winter break, and so they were seated immediately at one of the booths along the front wall of windows. Rose admired the glittering decorations that hung from the lampposts up and down the street outside. This was one of her favorite times of year, when everything looked more lovely than usual and people were kinder and happier.
They were both exhausted from the events of the day—had it only been that morning that she had taken her Shakespeare exam?—and therefore didn't speak very much. But the silence wasn't stifling; it was comfortable and cozy. If they'd been on the couch in one of their homes, Rose knew she probably would have curled up beside him and fallen asleep.
"Ready to head out?" James asked as he grabbed the bill before Rose could even reach for it. He pinned her with a stare that made her swallow her objections.
She nodded, and together they headed up to the front counter so James could pay, then they made their way back to Rose's flat. Warm and full from the food and beer, Rose wrapped her arm around James's and leaned into his side as they walked.
She wished they'd chosen a restaurant farther away when her building came into view a mere minute later; she wasn't quite ready for the day to end.
"Do you… do you want to come up?" Rose asked, suddenly shy.
James sighed. "I ought to go." Before she could be too disappointed, he said, "Believe me, I would love to. But it's nearly eight, and the cats have gotten used to being fed at around six. Pippin is probably a bag of bones, certain that I'm never coming home and he'll starve to death. And I wouldn't put it past Gollum to eat one of his brothers."
Rose giggled and relinquished his arm.
"I had a really great time today," he said, facing her.
"Me too. Thank you for dinner. And thanks for going shopping with me. No one's ever done that before."
He pressed his lips into a tight smile, then stuffed his hands into his pockets. He bounced on his toes, seeming as though he wanted to speak, so Rose stayed silent.
"I know we decorated today, but would you like to come to my house tomorrow and help me decorate? I haven't gotten my tree yet, and all my decorations are in boxes in my basement." He jerked his hand up to scrub it along the back of his neck, then to ruffle his hair. "Or is this too much too soon? How does this work? With my previous relationships, we had some classes together and would grab lunch every now and then or something. Or we'd hang out after school. I remember seeing some couples snogging every single afternoon in the car park after school and thought that was a little over-the-top. But now I'm not sure, 'cos I'd like to see you again tomorrow, but maybe this is too quick?" He gulped in a breath and said, "I'm talking too much."
Rose burst into a fit of laughter, but wrapped her arms around his waist and tucked her face into his chest in the hopes of letting him know she wasn't making fun of him.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I talk when I'm nervous."
"Really? I never would've guessed."
He pinched her side, but his entire body relaxed against her.
"Remember what I told you at breakfast? This works however we want it to work. We can move as quickly or slowly as we're comfortable with. We're in this together."
"I like the sound of together," he said softly, echoing his words from that morning.
"Does meeting up tomorrow feel too fast for you?" Rose asked.
"No. Is it too fast for you? Too much?"
"Nope," Rose said, popping the 'p' like he sometimes did. "In case you haven't noticed, I love spending time with you."
"Who wouldn't?" he preened.
She smacked him lightly across the chest. "So that's settled then. Though can I… can I ask you something? Well, more like request something from you?"
"Of course," James said, curious.
"Will you tell me if this becomes too much? If… if I become…?" She couldn't force the words out, her cheeks heating in a combination of embarrassment and self-consciousness.
"You will never become too much," James said fiercely, gripping her chin lightly to make her look at him. His gaze was achingly gentle. "Never, Rose."
The intensity in his eyes comforted her. She hid her face in his chest before she admitted, "Jimmy sometimes told me I was too clingy."
"Jimmy was an idiot and a twat," James said. "And I'm not him. I was facetious a moment ago, but I need you to know that I love spending time with you too, Rose. I love spending time with you. Even if we weren't dating, I would've wanted to spend time with you as a friend, despite not having to meet up to study anymore. I would've wanted to go on mate-dates with you for the rest of our time at uni, and even beyond that. Yes, you're my girlfriend, but more importantly, you're my best friend."
Rose smiled into his jacket and gave him a tight squeeze. "Thanks, James."
"I love you, Rose," he said.
"Love you, too," she mumbled, still reeling from the fact that she was allowed to say those words aloud to him.
"Er… is it too forward of me to ask for a goodnight kiss?"
Rose pulled back from the embrace. James's cheeks reddened and he nodded, looking slightly put out. Before he could apologize or begin rambling again, Rose cradled his jaw and rocked onto her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. Fighting a smile, she pulled away just before he could attempt to reciprocate.
"No, not too forward," she said, biting her lip around a grin.
"Oh. Right. Yes." His voice cracked, and he coughed to clear it. "That's not fair, Rose Tyler. I wasn't ready!"
"Guess we'll have to do it again," she said, but James was already moving towards her.
He wrapped one hand around the nape of her neck while the other caressed her cheek, holding her still as he brushed his lips to the corner of her mouth. A shiver that had nothing to do with the chill night air rippled down her spine. He pulled back only to plant another feather-light kiss to the other corner of her mouth.
"James."
"Hmm?" He kissed her upper lip, then the cleft between her lip and chin.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and connected their lips head-on. He smirked into the kiss, then angled his head to the side to deepen the kiss. Her knees trembled as pleasure and desire bolted through her, making her head spin.
Their lips pushed and pulled, gliding together as though they'd been doing this for ages. His lips were soft and warm, and she could taste their dinner on his breath. She sucked his bottom lip between hers and scraped her teeth against it; the throaty moan he let out made something deep in her belly clench. She tightened her hands into fists, scraping her nails across his scalp as she did so.
On and on they kissed, as though they weren't standing on the front steps in plain view of anyone who walked by. Rose knew she should probably pull away, but it felt too good to stop. His hands skated all across her face, fingertips brushing her cheekbones, her jawline, her neck. Goosebumps trailed along behind his touch, making her tremble.
Slowly, their kisses softened from desperate hunger to sweet desire until their lips parted for a final time. Rose was breathless and dizzy with yearning; she wished they could go up to her flat and continue this in a more private, intimate setting. She wanted his mouth and hands on every part of her body; she wanted to taste every inch of him, too. She wanted to know what his body would feel like pressed up against hers with far fewer clothes than they currently wore. She wanted to pull that breathless moan from him again and again. She wanted to know every piece of him and for him to know every piece of her in return.
"I should go," he whispered, his voice hoarse.
"Yeah," she murmured, breathing in a lungful of the fresh, crisp night air. "Wouldn't want Pippin to die of starvation."
"Or for Gollum to have any other excuses to be pissy."
Rose snorted, then she leaned up and brushed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Goodnight, James. Let me know when you get home."
He nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he took a step away from her. She felt his gaze on her as she walked into her apartment building, hollow loneliness already setting in. By the time she made it to her flat and looked out the front window, he had only just pulled away from the curb and was driving off into the night.
I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! I don't have a solid chapter count yet, but I'm guessing around ten-ish?
I'll be posting every other week, so the next update will be April 15th.