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Story: The Lady in the Fireplace
Author: Melinda Kitty![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
melindakitty
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Reinette, King of France and (eventually) Ninth Doctor
Rated: Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, abuse of REALLY good champagne, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did, Rose would be more BadWolf and less Angst, Ten would post a sign on the door sayin' "If the TARDIS is a rockin', don't come a knockin'", and half of their adventures through time and space would consist of finding new and unusual places to have a juicy shag.
Spoilers: AU, DURING "The Girl in the Fireplace". If you haven't seen the first three series of Doctor Who, you WILL be spoilered. I like to mess with canon. And you have my word that -- despite how this starts -- I'm a passionate Rose/Ten shipper.
Summary: OTP Rose/Ten with a lot of interesting liaisons along the way. So what exactly DID Ten do in Versailles? This French farce will have love, drama, sex, and eventually as close to a happy ending as I can manage. Be forewarned, though, I may take you places that would make RTD's head explode.
On with the show:
(In which everyone needs a drink, Rose flies the TARDIS, and Nine says goodbye.)
Nine is the first one out of the cubicle. The Doctor takes the hand when he offers it. “Now about that drink...”
After a quick towel-off (there is no finer luxury in the universe than a warm towel after a good shower, especially when one gets to apply it not only to one’s self, but to Rose too) he fishes the sonic screwdriver out of the pocket of his overcoat. Dials. Leers at his other self and Rose.
She flicks her eyes at Nine. “Turnabout?”
Nine leers smugly, first at her, then at him. “Do it and see where it gets you.” He towels dry what passes for hair.
The Doctor consults his interior chronometer. Twelve minutes, thirty-five seconds elapsed time. “Love to, but we’re running out of time.” He dials the appropriate setting. Sinks into a crouch. Wobbles, unsteady. (Oooh. Got to watch that. Still uncoordinated from that magnificent, quantum hand job.) He points the screwdriver. The crate of champagne gives at a few key points. He holds the screwdriver in his teeth (carefully). Prizes the lid off.
Nine plucks one of the bottles from the excelsior. Examines it. Whistles appreciatively. “Did I mention that I really want to be you?”
“And so you shall be.” The memories sync up again. Life is good. He lets his other self do the honours.
The lout takes a swig straight from the bottle. Pauses. Rolls the liquid around. Swallows slowly. Closes his eyes, savouring. Hums approval. Hands it to Rose. The Doctor remembers how good that first taste of champagne was. (Happily, a twist of time will allow him the pleasure of experiencing it again for the first time.)
Rose tilts the bottle for a sip.
He snatches the bottle from her. “Heathens.” He pours three glasses. “There. At least pretend not to be complete barbarians.”
Rose and Nine share a bit of unrepentant giggling. Though, they do at least have the decency to savour their respective glasses. The Doctor drinks his as slowly as time allows. Tastes every drop. Re-corks the bottle.
Rose gives a disappointed moan.
He smiles. “Later.” Before she can object more strenuously, he bends close to her ear. “Would it make a difference if I said I plan to drink it in slow laps off your bare skin?”
Nine folds his arms. “Not that you’re rubbing it in or anything.”
Rose colours to the roots of her hair. She grins at the Doctor. “That could be a bit of all right, yeah.” She gives him a quick kiss. Throws his overcoat back on. “See ya in three ticks.” She flips up the collar of the coat and gives him a femme fatale look. “I have to see a TARDIS about a Rift.”
He smiles. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” She gives him a quick peck on the cheek, blows a kiss to Nine (who mimes grabbing it from the air and eating it), and leaves.
Nine sets down his empty glass. “Cheers.” His smile fades as he dresses in silence.
The Doctor sets down his now-empty glass as well. Pauses. “Thank you.”
“What for?” Nine shrugs into the beaten leather jacket.
“For... everything.” It’s such a miserable excuse for communication. Fortunately, he remembers understanding what he meant.
Nine smiles. “My pleasure.” He jerks his chin. “You gonna navigate us in the buff, then?”
The Doctor slips into his boxers again. Minds the tear in the front. (When this is over, he’s going to frame these for a souvenir of the most insane two days of his life. Hang them in his bedroom to enjoy for centuries to come. Come? He’s never going to be able to say that word again without smirking.)
Both of them are silent on the long walk back. The Doctor is lost in his own thoughts. (And annoyingly aware of the thoughts of his other self. He remembers this vividly too.)
First things first. As soon as they reach the control room, he checks Rose.
She fends off his concerned hands. “I’m fine.”
He persists. His ninth holds her gently but firmly by the upper arms. “Let him look, Rose.”
He shoots himself a grateful look. Fishes his glasses from the pocket of his much-abused coat. (Which is still in a heap on the floor.) Squints. Rose’s colour’s better. Her heartbeat’s still slow, but her body temperature has risen again to more normal levels. He caresses her face. “Good. You’ll be fine.”
She kisses him gently. “Can I forgive you now?”
He smiles. “Certainly hope so. Not sure what I might do could possibly top this.”
Rose gives him that devilish grin that goes straight to his groin. “Well... we could go find Jack.”
He blanches. God, Jack would eat him alive. And if Rose showed him the... He shudders at the thought of being at the mercy of those two.
(Then again, perhaps he should file that away for future reference. Assuming Jack doesn’t still want to kill him for leaving. But on the other hand he’s talked himself out of worse situations...)
“Kidding,” she says. She kisses his cheek. “Kidding. I was... mostly kidding.” She kisses him. Deepens the kiss. He forgets everything. The emotion is almost too much to bear, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. A bit of quantum energy has him shivering. “Later,” she promises.
When she pulls gently away, he can’t take his eyes off her. Sighs, amused at himself. “Like I wasn’t wrapped around your little finger before.”
She grins at him. “My Doctor.” She turns. Gives Nine a gentle kiss. “My first Doctor.” She sets the controls. Smiles sadly. “I’m sorry, but it’s...”
The Doctor nods. “Time to go.”
“So do we just trust her, then?” says Nine.
He smiles. “With our lives.” He pulls the lever. The engine whirs to life.
The trip back is surprisingly easy. No blown fuses. No explosions of sparks. No miscalculations. Nary a jostle upon landing. Even the satisfying “ding” at the end. (Actually, it’s embarrassingly impressive. The two females in his life appear to be conspiring against him.)
Rose grins, triumphant.
He folds his arms, bemused. “There will be no living with you now, will there?”
Rose’s grin widens. “Nope.”
Nine chuckles. “I warned you, fuckwit. Don’t Get Overly Involved.”
“You’re a fine one to talk, oh wandering-handed-wonder.” He peeks out the door to the TARDIS. He could swear they’ve landed in exactly the same spot they left. He grins.
“All right?” Nine is careful to stay a safe distance away, so he and the Doctor don’t touch. He does put his arms around Rose, though. Holds her close with her back to his chest. She leans her head on his shoulder. Closes her eyes. Savours these last few seconds.
He misses being able to touch his ninth already. He nods. “Looks okay to me.” He steps back from the door so his other self won’t risk brushing past him. “I’d like nothing better than to shake your hand...”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Rose’s eyes sparkle.
“... but,” he refuses to be baited, “paradox.”
Nine nods. “You have my word that I’ll forget you. And her. And this.”
He gives himself a genuine smile. “Good man.”
Nine steps away from Rose. She catches his hand. Her smile is bittersweet. “Thank you,” she says.
“My pleasure,” says Nine. He kisses her knuckles. Presses her palm to his cheek. “Goodbye.”
Whatever Rose might’ve said catches in her throat. She puts on a brave smile. Nods.
Nine turns. Heads for the door, back straight. Only the Doctor sees his tears.
Link to All Previous Chapters
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time_and_chips
Author: Melinda Kitty
melindakittyCharacters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Reinette, King of France and (eventually) Ninth Doctor
Rated: Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, abuse of REALLY good champagne, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did, Rose would be more BadWolf and less Angst, Ten would post a sign on the door sayin' "If the TARDIS is a rockin', don't come a knockin'", and half of their adventures through time and space would consist of finding new and unusual places to have a juicy shag.
Spoilers: AU, DURING "The Girl in the Fireplace". If you haven't seen the first three series of Doctor Who, you WILL be spoilered. I like to mess with canon. And you have my word that -- despite how this starts -- I'm a passionate Rose/Ten shipper.
Summary: OTP Rose/Ten with a lot of interesting liaisons along the way. So what exactly DID Ten do in Versailles? This French farce will have love, drama, sex, and eventually as close to a happy ending as I can manage. Be forewarned, though, I may take you places that would make RTD's head explode.
On with the show:
(In which everyone needs a drink, Rose flies the TARDIS, and Nine says goodbye.)
Nine is the first one out of the cubicle. The Doctor takes the hand when he offers it. “Now about that drink...”
After a quick towel-off (there is no finer luxury in the universe than a warm towel after a good shower, especially when one gets to apply it not only to one’s self, but to Rose too) he fishes the sonic screwdriver out of the pocket of his overcoat. Dials. Leers at his other self and Rose.
She flicks her eyes at Nine. “Turnabout?”
Nine leers smugly, first at her, then at him. “Do it and see where it gets you.” He towels dry what passes for hair.
The Doctor consults his interior chronometer. Twelve minutes, thirty-five seconds elapsed time. “Love to, but we’re running out of time.” He dials the appropriate setting. Sinks into a crouch. Wobbles, unsteady. (Oooh. Got to watch that. Still uncoordinated from that magnificent, quantum hand job.) He points the screwdriver. The crate of champagne gives at a few key points. He holds the screwdriver in his teeth (carefully). Prizes the lid off.
Nine plucks one of the bottles from the excelsior. Examines it. Whistles appreciatively. “Did I mention that I really want to be you?”
“And so you shall be.” The memories sync up again. Life is good. He lets his other self do the honours.
The lout takes a swig straight from the bottle. Pauses. Rolls the liquid around. Swallows slowly. Closes his eyes, savouring. Hums approval. Hands it to Rose. The Doctor remembers how good that first taste of champagne was. (Happily, a twist of time will allow him the pleasure of experiencing it again for the first time.)
Rose tilts the bottle for a sip.
He snatches the bottle from her. “Heathens.” He pours three glasses. “There. At least pretend not to be complete barbarians.”
Rose and Nine share a bit of unrepentant giggling. Though, they do at least have the decency to savour their respective glasses. The Doctor drinks his as slowly as time allows. Tastes every drop. Re-corks the bottle.
Rose gives a disappointed moan.
He smiles. “Later.” Before she can object more strenuously, he bends close to her ear. “Would it make a difference if I said I plan to drink it in slow laps off your bare skin?”
Nine folds his arms. “Not that you’re rubbing it in or anything.”
Rose colours to the roots of her hair. She grins at the Doctor. “That could be a bit of all right, yeah.” She gives him a quick kiss. Throws his overcoat back on. “See ya in three ticks.” She flips up the collar of the coat and gives him a femme fatale look. “I have to see a TARDIS about a Rift.”
He smiles. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” She gives him a quick peck on the cheek, blows a kiss to Nine (who mimes grabbing it from the air and eating it), and leaves.
Nine sets down his empty glass. “Cheers.” His smile fades as he dresses in silence.
The Doctor sets down his now-empty glass as well. Pauses. “Thank you.”
“What for?” Nine shrugs into the beaten leather jacket.
“For... everything.” It’s such a miserable excuse for communication. Fortunately, he remembers understanding what he meant.
Nine smiles. “My pleasure.” He jerks his chin. “You gonna navigate us in the buff, then?”
The Doctor slips into his boxers again. Minds the tear in the front. (When this is over, he’s going to frame these for a souvenir of the most insane two days of his life. Hang them in his bedroom to enjoy for centuries to come. Come? He’s never going to be able to say that word again without smirking.)
Both of them are silent on the long walk back. The Doctor is lost in his own thoughts. (And annoyingly aware of the thoughts of his other self. He remembers this vividly too.)
First things first. As soon as they reach the control room, he checks Rose.
She fends off his concerned hands. “I’m fine.”
He persists. His ninth holds her gently but firmly by the upper arms. “Let him look, Rose.”
He shoots himself a grateful look. Fishes his glasses from the pocket of his much-abused coat. (Which is still in a heap on the floor.) Squints. Rose’s colour’s better. Her heartbeat’s still slow, but her body temperature has risen again to more normal levels. He caresses her face. “Good. You’ll be fine.”
She kisses him gently. “Can I forgive you now?”
He smiles. “Certainly hope so. Not sure what I might do could possibly top this.”
Rose gives him that devilish grin that goes straight to his groin. “Well... we could go find Jack.”
He blanches. God, Jack would eat him alive. And if Rose showed him the... He shudders at the thought of being at the mercy of those two.
(Then again, perhaps he should file that away for future reference. Assuming Jack doesn’t still want to kill him for leaving. But on the other hand he’s talked himself out of worse situations...)
“Kidding,” she says. She kisses his cheek. “Kidding. I was... mostly kidding.” She kisses him. Deepens the kiss. He forgets everything. The emotion is almost too much to bear, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. A bit of quantum energy has him shivering. “Later,” she promises.
When she pulls gently away, he can’t take his eyes off her. Sighs, amused at himself. “Like I wasn’t wrapped around your little finger before.”
She grins at him. “My Doctor.” She turns. Gives Nine a gentle kiss. “My first Doctor.” She sets the controls. Smiles sadly. “I’m sorry, but it’s...”
The Doctor nods. “Time to go.”
“So do we just trust her, then?” says Nine.
He smiles. “With our lives.” He pulls the lever. The engine whirs to life.
The trip back is surprisingly easy. No blown fuses. No explosions of sparks. No miscalculations. Nary a jostle upon landing. Even the satisfying “ding” at the end. (Actually, it’s embarrassingly impressive. The two females in his life appear to be conspiring against him.)
Rose grins, triumphant.
He folds his arms, bemused. “There will be no living with you now, will there?”
Rose’s grin widens. “Nope.”
Nine chuckles. “I warned you, fuckwit. Don’t Get Overly Involved.”
“You’re a fine one to talk, oh wandering-handed-wonder.” He peeks out the door to the TARDIS. He could swear they’ve landed in exactly the same spot they left. He grins.
“All right?” Nine is careful to stay a safe distance away, so he and the Doctor don’t touch. He does put his arms around Rose, though. Holds her close with her back to his chest. She leans her head on his shoulder. Closes her eyes. Savours these last few seconds.
He misses being able to touch his ninth already. He nods. “Looks okay to me.” He steps back from the door so his other self won’t risk brushing past him. “I’d like nothing better than to shake your hand...”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Rose’s eyes sparkle.
“... but,” he refuses to be baited, “paradox.”
Nine nods. “You have my word that I’ll forget you. And her. And this.”
He gives himself a genuine smile. “Good man.”
Nine steps away from Rose. She catches his hand. Her smile is bittersweet. “Thank you,” she says.
“My pleasure,” says Nine. He kisses her knuckles. Presses her palm to his cheek. “Goodbye.”
Whatever Rose might’ve said catches in her throat. She puts on a brave smile. Nods.
Nine turns. Heads for the door, back straight. Only the Doctor sees his tears.
Link to All Previous Chapters
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