Rated Teen this chapter but rating will increase. Thanks again to my beta, resile
After several minutes of pacing and most definitely not panicking over Rose's potential reaction to the room, the Doctor decides to take a shower. Not that he needs one, of course. His sonic could easily take care of his hygiene issues if he had any, which he doesn't. Time lords never have body odour (well, very nearly never); superior biology allows him the ability to regulate his own temperature so there's no need for primitive sweat glands. But the loo is the only thing that he hasn't inspected yet and he wouldn't want to be negligent.
Expecting to find a neon heart shaped bath filled with flower petals or something equally ridiculous, he is instead greeted by a sophisticated room that reminds him of a mini spa, complete with muted earth toned décor, marble tiled floors and a bathtub the size of a small swimming pool.
Noticing several suspicious looking metal spouts sticking out of the wall, he narrows his eyes, approaching them briskly to see what they are. Tiny labels cover each one, indicating their various floral scents, and he leans down to make sure that they are what they claim to be. He licks the spout that says 'rose' and is startled by a loud computerized voice that tells him that he 'made an excellent choice'.
"Oh, no no no no no! I don't want –" The spray hits him in the face with a surprising amount of pressure, wetting his hair and most of his suit, making him smell like a floral bouquet. He uses his impressive quick reflexes to turn the water off, sprinting out of the bathroom before it has a chance to do any more damage.
Grateful that Rose wasn't there to witness him looking so undignified, he grabs a towel to dry off his hair, rubbing it on his head carefully so that it styles it at the same time, and then uses the sonic to dry off his suit.
He looks in a mirror that hangs by the bed, gives an approving nod at his reflection and begins to feel a little more optimistic about the situation. Logically, he knows that Rose will find the room humorous rather than offensive. It wouldn't be like her to get angry or jump to conclusions or – but what if she does? Her behaviour has been off recently, all the more so today. Getting her to smile or laugh was so much more difficult than usual. Maybe today she would be offended. Maybe today she would jump to conclusions. Maybe today she would ask him to take her home.
Pacing back and forth again, he glares at the bed as if it is to blame for his sudden inability to remain calm. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, tugging at his hair with both hands, and sees that his perfectly styled strands now stick out in several different directions, making him look like a madman.
Effectively distracted from the impending panic, he stops to arrange his hair again and reminds himself that he always manages to come up with a brilliant plan eventually. Why should this be any different? Perhaps he could blindfold her and take her straight to the loo, claiming that everyone sleeps in bathtubs on this planet and that the bedroom is filled with light that is harmful to the human eye. Completely plausible, that.
He chuckles when a picture of her trying to figure out the different scented spouts pops into his head, an image that is inconveniently followed by a much more vivid one of her naked and bathing. Heat rises to his face and his breathing becomes erratic. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath to focus on tamping down his body's traitorous reaction to the familiar fantasy.
Because the universe hates him, that's the exact moment that he hears Rose inserting her key card.
He reacts automatically, sprinting to the door to open it before she has a chance and then sliding through the crack to prevent her from seeing inside the room. Without even glancing at her, he grabs onto her hand to drag her towards the lift.
Rose tugs on his hand to slow him down. "Doctor, what – I don't understand, why are we running?"
"No time, Rose! We're late. We have a reservation to keep!" he says, stopping in front of the lift to push the down button several times. It opens right away and he pulls her into it, finally feeling like he can relax again.
Then he looks at her.
All breath leaves his body again as he takes in her appearance: A floor-length, deep red, sleeveless dress hugs her body, the lightly sequined bodice twinkling faintly in the dim, flickering lights of the lift. Her hair is pulled up into an elaborate bun, wisps of blonde strands framing her face, exposing her neck, shoulder and clavicle in such a way that has him clenching and unclenching his hands, as he wills away thoughts of what it would be like to lick her there. He closes his mouth when he realises he must be gaping.
"Doctor, I think you've got a bit of drool, just right -" she wipes her finger over the corner of his mouth, "there."
"What? What? Time Lords do not drool," he stammers. "You look amazing, Rose. Not that you don't always look amazing, because you do, and I'm sure I don't tell you that enough, but this is a flattering look for you, quite elegant, not that you aren't elegant normally –" Her finger on his lips abruptly shuts him up.
She gives him a cheeky grin. "I know! I really do, don't I? The shop girls are so helpful here."
"Oh, were they?" he asks, still distracted by the dip between her shoulder and clavicle, shadowed and mysterious and tempting.
"Yes, they were. Doctor, don't you think you should select the floor so this lift actually goes somewhere? I thought we were running late."
"Didn't I already? Aren't we moving?" It feels like they are.
"Uh, no, we're not, actually," she says, sounding a bit smug and amused.
"Oh. Right. Floor 2 coming up!"
He presses the button, silently concentrating on regaining his composure and on dissolving the cocktail of hormones coursing through his bloodstream.
The doors open to reveal an obtrusive wall with blinking red lights on a rectangular panel. The Doctor reaches into his pocket to pull out the passes, scans them across the sensor, and tugs Rose through the doorway that opens once they're free to move ahead.
"Ooh, secret doors. Very –" Whatever she was about to say is forgotten when she notices the room they just entered.
This is always his favourite part, seeing the wonder on her face as she takes in a new place or experience. She halts mid step, her eyes widening as she gawks at the expanse of blue in front of them, an endless underwater world of water animals and exotic fishes that swim in all directions, through colourful coral and swaying plants, co-existing incongruously with people eating at tables on the ocean floor. She slowly extends her hand towards the water, brow creased in concentration, undoubtedly trying to make sense of how she is still dry when the aquarium doesn't appear to be encased behind glass, and is startled when she hits an unexpected barrier.
He clasps her hand in his and pulls her into the room with him. "The glass is invisible. Gives you the illusion that you're right there in the ocean with them, while you enjoy a top notch dining experience. What you're looking at is the planet in its original state before humans got a hold of it. Well, not the whole planet – just the oceans and lakes, but much of the surface was covered in water. See it's even above us."
They both look up to see a large, purple, manatee-like creature with six eyes, swimming towards them. Rose grimaces, shielding her head with her arm, smiling when she realises it isn't coming anywhere near them.
"It's sort of like a 3d movie, yeah?" She worries her bottom lip between her teeth when a vicious fish that looks like a great white shark comes at them from the left.
He has to look away from her, a looming fantasy of sucking on that bottom lip threatening to overtake his imagination. When did he become so excitable, randy, horny, hot and bothered, he wonders. Very odd words, all of them: human-sex-drive words that should have nothing to do with him. And he should probably answer her question.
"A bit, yes. Only this is all real. Think of it like a nature preserve of sorts. Still, I don't know how they keep the predators from eating all the other animals. Must be more invisible barriers in there." He pulls out his glasses and places them on his nose, squinting to get a better look.
"Will you be dining with us this evening, sir and madam?" a voice interrupts them.
The Doctor turns to face the voice, a pretty boy in a tux attached to his slightly less pretty brother. He pockets his glasses and pulls the passes back out. "Oh yes, I should think so. We have reservations!"
"Of course, right this way," they both say, motioning for them to follow.
Rose looks at them, curiosity written all over her face. She puts her hand over her mouth, leans into the Doctor to whisper, "He has two heads."
"Don't stare, Rose, it's rude. Conjoined twins are quite the norm in establishments like this. They make the best hosts," he whispers back.
"Right. But how is that even possible? They aren't identical. And isn't that a bit discriminating, making them all hosts like that? I mean what if they want to do something else?"
The air from her whisper tickles the hairs on his neck, making him giggle. She pokes him in the ribs.
"Oi! It's a perfectly reasonable question." She frowns.
"Oh, I wasn't laughing about what you said."
"Then wha –" Rose starts to ask and then stops when the hosts turn to look at them with a hand out to indicate where they should sit.
Both heads smile, handing them menus and opening their mouths to speak at the same time. "Your server will be right with you. Enjoy your dinner and please let us know if it is anything short of the best dining experience of your life!"
"Will do, thank you," the Doctor says, taking his seat across from Rose.
She stares into the distance and he follows her gaze as it travels from the hosts retreating back to the ocean preserve all around them to the dance floor with something that looks like longing, or maybe regret. Finally, she meets his eyes. The table is small, but tastefully decorated, a solitary candle casting glimmering light against the uncorked bottle of red wine and two modest glasses sitting in the centre.
He beams at her. "What do you think? Do you like my surprise, then?"
She frowns in consideration. "I don't know, Doctor. You've been hinting around about this place all day and I'm not sure it quite measures up."
"No? Well. I'll admit it isn't the most impressive place I've ever brought you. Still, I thought that you'd at least –" her lips twitch and he pauses. "And you're just winding me up aren't you?"
"'Course I am! This has all been brilliant." She takes his hand in hers across the table, lightly rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, staring into his eyes in a way that makes him feel adored. "I mean it, thank you."
"Aww, you two are adorable! Is it your anniversary?" a female who sounds almost American interrupts.
The Doctor looks up at the intruder, reflexively snatching his hand away from Rose to scratch the back of his neck.
"Oh, we aren't together; we're, um, really good mates," Rose says with a crooked smile.
"I see." She doesn't sound like she believes it and the Doctor is surprised when he feels pleased by that. "I'm Eliza and I'll be your server this evening. Would you like to hear our specials before you order?"
"Yes, bring us all of those," the Doctor says, wanting her to leave.
"But you haven't even heard them, sir. Are you sure?" Eliza asks.
"Quite. We worked up a big appetite today." Eliza gives him a cheeky grin, and he pulls on his ear. "That's not what I meant. Just order us the lot, thanks!"
Effectively dismissed, Eliza leaves to place their order.
Rose exhales a nervous laugh. "Blimey, but that was a bit awkward. I almost thought she was going to ask us for details on our favourite shagging positions."
His eyes widen a little at her audacious words. "Yeah, and she might have done if not for her position, erm I mean job, as our server."
He picks up the bottle of wine, pouring himself a glass and most definitely not imagining which sexual positions would be likely contenders for 'favourite'. With unsteady hands, he reaches for Rose's glass, hitting the mouth of the bottle hard against the glass, making a loud clinking noise and barely avoiding a disastrous spill.
She takes a sip of the wine and opens her mouth to respond, but something behind him distracts her and she points at it, eyes wide with shock and delight. "Oh my god, is that a mermaid?"
He turns to see a fish with long flowing black hair and a beautiful feminine face swimming towards them that does, indeed, look like a mermaid. "Nah, nasty things, mermaids. That's just a capilli fish with a pretty face. See how it's mostly covered in scales? Just has hair and human-like eyes, pretty common on this planet, really."
She shakes her head at him with a bemused smile. "You are so full of it. It's a mermaid-like creature then, alright? Makes me wish my cousin Chelsea were here to see it."
Then, her eyes go cloudy and she gets that distant look in her eyes again and he curses internally, concerned that her joy over the evening hasn't eclipsed her earlier anxieties.
She tentatively meets his eyes and then picks up a cloth napkin from her lap, focusing on that instead, as she begins to flip it over, back and forth, folding it each time until it looks like a fan.
"You know, I used to come to a town like this one when I was growing up. Mum would send me off to Granny Tyler for a week every summer and we'd take the train to meet Chelsea and my Aunt at this caravan park."
Placing the napkin on the table, she pauses to look at the capilli fish still swimming behind him with a distant smile. "Chelsea – she was a few years older than me; bright ginger hair and wild as anyone I've ever met – well, we ran around everywhere getting in all sorts of trouble together. She had this barmy idea that mermaids lived in the North Sea and she would drag me all over to look for them, claiming she'd find proof eventually. Used to drive my Gran mad, we did."
The Doctor smiles, charmed by this picture of a tiny adventure seeking Rose. "What happened to her?"
Her eyes snap back to his. "Chelsea? Oh she never found any evidence of mermaids and outgrew all that stuff by the time I was twelve or thirteen. Ran off with some posh bloke from the resort side of town one day. Said I couldn't tag along because I looked too working class or something like that."
"And that didn't bother you?" He frowns.
She shrugs and focuses once again on the creature behind him. "Not really, no. I mean I looked up to her and missed having her around and all, but I wasn't fussed about any of it at first. At least not until I was bored one day and decided to follow her, because I was curious about where she was sneaking off to all those times. She'd taught me how to do it all quiet like, used to say we had to be as stealthy as ninjas or we'd scare the mermaids off. So she didn't even hear me creeping up behind them."
Chewing idly on her thumbnail, she shakes a stray hair out of her face and looks at him, the hint of vulnerability in her eyes making his arms ache to hold her.
He settles for squeezing her hand in his, a silent appeal for her to continue. The sound of plates clinking against one another startles them both and they jump at the sudden intrusion.
"Well, here you are. All of the evening's specials, including deserts! Just as you requested." Eliza fills the table with dish after dish of steaks, seafood, chicken, pasta, various vegetables, chocolate treats and fruity pastries, until the wooden surface is no longer visible.
"Blimey, I think we're going to need a bigger table. That's a lot of food," the Doctor says.
"I tried to warn you, sir, but you did insist. Please let me know if anything isn't to your satisfaction." Eliza departs with a curtsy.
Rose and the Doctor look at each other, eyes wide at the overwhelming display in front of them, and burst into simultaneous laughter, hands flying up to cover their mouths, tears streaming down their faces from the strain of trying to remain as quiet of possible.
Finally composed, Rose picks up her fork and stabs it into a small roasted potato. "I guess we better start eating, yeah?"
He grins in agreement and starts digging into some pasta primavera, remembering at the last minute that he should use utensils. "Mmm, brilliant noodles, very tasty! No need to worry about eating all of this. I'll have them pack what we don't eat and we can either give it away or bring it all back to the TARDIS."
"This is gorgeous, perfect texture," Rose moans as she takes a bite of steak and his eyes glaze over at the way her tongue darts out to bring the food into her mouth.
Clearing his throat, he grasps onto the first distraction that comes to mind, because he desperately needs one, and because he genuinely wants to know: "So what happened after you followed this cousin of yours, then?"
Her eyes go dull and she freezes, mid-bite. Dread builds in his gut, bubbles up inside of him like a shaken bottle of beer waiting to be opened, and for the first time it occurs to him that maybe this is what has been bothering her all day, that maybe this is when she will tell him that she wants him to bring her home. He wants to take back his question.
He combs his hand through his hair and scrambles to change the subject. "Unless you don't want to talk about it. Plenty of other things to talk about - look at that giant rainbowfish over there. He seems to be quite enjoying that bit of algae. Interesting family of fish, rainbowfish, generally found in the rivers and lakes of Australia and New Guinea on Earth and found in similar climates on this planet too, though obviously there is a large difference in size. Isn't it interesting how they've managed to create a habitat here where salt water and fresh water creatures can both live? Human ingenuity knows no bounds."
She smiles around her fork. "It's amazing. And, no, it's alright, I don't mind talking about it. S' not exactly the most pleasant dinner conversation, is all, and I don't want to bore you, nattering on about domestic things."
"Oh Rose, I think everything you say is interesting. Well. Perhaps not everything - I could do without hearing about some of your Mother's nastier habits." He makes a face, remembering one particular conversation about a past boyfriend, and then seeing her serious expression, he stops, schooling his face in anticipation of what she is about to tell him.
"Noted." She breathes out an almost inaudible sigh and picks up her glass of wine, sipping it slowly. "So there I was hiding in the bushes in the courtyard of the fancy hotel I followed them to, watching Chelsea snog this bloke. It was the first time I'd seen people kiss like that outside of East Enders and other stuff that Mum watched on telly and it looked a bit messy and gross to me, like two people sucking each other's faces off. Anyway, I started feeling quite dirty seeing such a private moment so I got up to leave. And that's when he heard me." She fidgets with an earring, staring off into the distance, and they're not the hoop ones she normally has on, but long, silver, dangly, ruby-plated ones that match her dress.
Her pause turns into an awkward silence that aches to be filled with words, so he says the first thing that comes to mind, wondering why he seems to have temporarily lost his ability to hold several hundred trains of thought at once.
"Erm, nice earrings."
Startled out of her thoughts, she stops fidgeting and meets his eyes.
"Oh, thanks. Bought them with the dress." She smiles at his half-hearted complement. "Sorry, zoned out a bit. Where was I?"
"The boyfriend heard you get up to leave."
"Right. Well, he went a bit mad, started yelling as soon as he saw me, accusing Chelsea of having spies. He said his family couldn't know about her because of where she was from. Called her 'whore' and a 'bent' and me a 'little chav brat'. Well, I had a little mouth on me so of course I fought back, telling him he wasn't allowed to talk to her that way. Even shoved him a little when he wouldn't listen, but he was bigger and stronger and pushed me back, so that was a bad idea. I was a tough kid though, just got a badly skinned knee and refused to give the git the satisfaction of seeing me cry over it. After that, he turned around and went back inside his posh hotel, saying he never wanted to see Chelsea again. She ran off, saying I'd ruined everything. Then told Gran that she wanted to go home and she hasn't talked to me since."
He moves to sit beside her and pulls her into a hug. Being able to comfort in this way wasn't intuitive to him before or hadn't been for a long time. Oh, sure, he'd hug anybody, but this sort of empathy is something that has re-emerged from knowing her.
"You did the right thing," he says, not knowing what else to tell her.
She clutches onto his lapels, leans into his embrace, her voice reverberating against his chest. "Yeah, maybe I did, but I think she loved him. Or thought she did, anyway. What hurt the most was how she tossed me aside like I didn't matter, like we hadn't been close all those years. When our Gran passed, I tried to give her a ring, thinking maybe she'd want to talk to someone who knew her, but she didn't want anything to do with me. Not even at the funeral. And I know it's sort of selfish, but, really I think the hardest thing about losing her and my Gran, was that it felt like I lost the only link I had to my Dad too, you know? Besides Mum of course."
She pulls back to look him in the eye. "Thing is, Doctor, not even that experience with Chelsea's git of a boyfriend made me feel like I was less, just because of where I came from. I never felt that way, until, well, until, some things that have happened recently, and then again when I met my parents in that parallel world..."
Something is about to change. He can feel it, almost see their timelines splitting in two different directions, despite how muddled hers usually appears to him, and he can't ( won't) allow it.
"Do you want to dance? Dance with me, over there on the dance floor?" he says, before she can continue.
It works.
"I'm sorry, I think my ears aren't working properly. Did you just ask me to dance? Are you sure you're feeling alright, Doctor?" She reaches up to feel his forehead with the back of her hand.
"Oi! It's not like I've never asked you to dance," he protests weakly, sounding a little like his last self, with the exception of the whine he can't seem to keep out of his voice.
"Technically, I don't think you ever asked me, and right now you don't have any time agents to compete with." She gets up, extends a hand to him and wets her lips before breaking into a huge grin. "Well, come on, then. Let's see if you've got better moves in this body."
The way she is looking at him, he's certain he would follow her anywhere. Flushed cheeks, heavy lidded eyes and a flirtatious smile that could make even the most cynical person fall to their feet in reverence. He takes her hand, allowing her to lead him to the dance floor.
"Oh, I think you'll find that I do, Rose Tyler," he says belatedly.
She turns her head to answer him over her shoulder, smiling. "We'll see."
When they reach the dance floor, he tugs her towards him into an elaborate twirl and then grabs her waist and pulls her against his chest in one move.
She looks up at him, giddy and impressed, putting both of her arms around his neck. "That was a much better start than last time. Let's see what else you've got."
He beams at her.
A pianist plays a song he doesn't recognize, fingers dancing gently over the keys, the languid melody and an emotive beat flowing over the dance floor, creating an intimate, quiet atmosphere. He pulls her closer, wrapping his arms more tightly around her waist, encouraging her to rest her head against his hearts. With a shuddering sigh, he closes his eyes and focuses on the way her warm breath hits his neck, on the way she leans on him so trusting and sure of his ability to support her.
He wants to freeze this moment, suspend it in time forever so that they never have to move forward again. It is so antithetical to how he normally feels, this wanting to stay in one place, in one instance, and he doesn't know what to do with that feeling. But she's there with him, right now, and she is everything he has ever wanted in one fragile human being; he is so sure it won't last, so sure of the inevitability that she will leave him, that the idea of this, too, fading into a distant memory is unendurable. He wants to remain here, to meld into her until they become one and can experience this moment again and again. He can't, though; even if he could, he would never ask that of her. His Rose is not meant to be perfectly preserved in a singular eternal moment that never changes, kept in permanent stasis, simply because he can't bear to face a future without her.
Rose pulls out of his embrace and looks up at him with concern. "Song's over, Doctor. You okay?"
He isn't, not really.
Forcing a smile, he nods. "Of course I am."
She smiles back, not believing him. "I'm feeling pretty knackered, almost fell asleep on you during that dance. Do you think we could ask them to send the rest of the food to our room?"
"Yes, I'll let our lovely hosts know so they can tell Eliza. Wouldn't want her to gloat or anything. Wouldn't want all of that delicious chocolate to get tossed, either." He starts to walk away to take care of it when she pulls him back towards her.
"I'll meet you up there, okay? I want to get out of this dress. S' not the most comfortable thing I've ever worn," she says, stifling a yawn.
His eyes widen. Lost in his thoughts, he completely forgot about the room, and he can't let her see it without some sort of explanation.
"You can't, Rose. You'll need me to use the passes to scan our way out and they're biologically linked to me, so they won't work for you." It's not a lie, ish; just a bit of a half-truth. They are linked to his bio signature, but she could easily use them.
"Yeah, alright. I think I can stand to wait a bit longer. Still, lots of lovely things to keep me occupied in your absence." She winks at him, walking off in the direction of the lift.
He arranges for their food to be sent up and pays their bill, barely noticing the thanks of the hosts or when they correct the way he accidentally signs his name diagonally across the front of the receipt, too preoccupied by thoughts of how to make a cosy, heart-shaped bed seem like an innocent and ordinary fixture of the hotel.
"Ready to go?" he asks, touching Rose on the shoulder.
"You startled me! I didn't hear you coming. Yes, let's go," she says with another yawn.
He doesn't manage to tell her about the room on the way out of the restaurant, walking slowly, pointing out various sea creatures along the way to explain the differences between them and their Earth like counterparts, barely paying attention to what is coming out of his own mouth, his enthusiastic voice becoming an indistinct murmur. As soon as they reach the lift, he pulls Rose into it and quickly pushes the wrong button, pretending it is a complete accident when they end up on the incorrect floor. He laughs at his 'mistake' when he sees her raise a questioning eyebrow at him and, finding no other way to prolong the ride, he pushes the correct button.
Once they arrive on the proper floor, he steers her in the opposite direction of their room, hand placed on the middle of her back, gently urging her forward.
"Rose, you have to see the ice machine. It's brilliant! Absolutely astounding, really. I've visited it five times today, already! Just look at it!" He tugs at his ear and begins to feel a bit guilty about the lie.
She giggles at him indulgently. "Okay, let's see it, then."
He points at it, noting that it is in fact a boring, generic, large silver ice dispenser with a big 'push for ice here' button in the centre, the type of machine found in hotels all over the universe.
Looking at the ice machine with an admirable amount of expectation for an entire minute, she frowns at him when it fails to do anything interesting, aside from making a loud clunking noise. Shaking her head, she pulls him down the hallway, back towards the room.
When they reach their door, he stands staring, key clutched in the palm of his hand, still fumbling for a way to warn her about what she is about to see.
Words are failing him for the first time that he can remember. Well, maybe not the first time - he has managed to bollocks up quite a few situations with the wrong choice of words. But he's also someone that has been known to bring down entire governments with words alone, so, really not being able to formulate a sentence about something so simple is quite pathetic. He can almost hear his past incarnations laughing at him.
"Well, if you aren't going to open the door, I will." Rose snatches the key card out of his hand.
"Rose, no, I need to explain, the roo – " he says, but she's already inside, gaping at him, a blush forming on her cheeks.