Work Text:
After S02E07 - The Idiots lantern
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“Doctor, I think there is a chance there was some booze in the punch.”
They were meandering crookedly down the street, away from the ongoing coronation festivities. The TARDIS was a block away still, and neither of them were in much of a hurry to get there. Oncoming dusk was giving everything that half muted quality, making bright colours even more vivid. Among them was the Doctor's increasingly pink nose.
“Reaaally?” The Doctor gazed into the paper cup he still carried with a dubious eye. “I think you may indeed be right about that. And this was my second. Huh!” He downed the remainder of his drink, then flung his arm around Rose's neck, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, “good thing I gave away the scooter before we drank it. The punch that is, not the scooter.”
Rose gave a tipsy giggle, and the Doctor ran ahead, opening a trash bin standing by a low brick wall, and slam dunking the paper cup inside. He turned about, and with much enthusiasm leapt up to sit on top of the wall with his heels bouncing off the brick. Rose sauntered up after him and tossed her own cup away, watching him grin at her.
“Rose, I am so glad you got your face back.”
She laughed, “So am I, trust me!”
“Oh I do,” he reached for her hand and tugged her closer; she stepped clumsily between his knees, placing her palms on his thighs to catch her balance. The Doctor's own hands rested on her shoulders as he looked at her seriously. “I don't approve of you losing your face. Just so you know.”
“I'll try to keep that in mind, if the opportunity ever comes up again.” She tried to hold back a laugh, but the buzz of liquor and the delightful proximity was making her giddy and light headed.
“You'd better,” he said, pointing an admonishing finger at her nose, “because I'm rather attached to it.” His finger poked the tip of her nose lightly, then traveled up the bridge and across an eyebrow.
“Are you now?” This was new. Rose was a little nervous to move too quickly, afraid she might startle the Doctor into observing his own behavior and pulling away. Again.
“Yeh,” he said, as his finger made its way down her cheekbone, “It's pretty. You did a good job on it.”
Rose closed her eyes, making a conscious effort not to let out a noise that might prove incredibly embarrassing.
“I did put a lot of work into it.” She spoke lightly, trying not to give away how much her head swam, and not from the alcohol. She felt the finger make its way to the corner of her mouth, and her heart momentarily forgot to work. Slowly he drew the tip of his finger over the line of Rose's upper lip, then around the curve of the bottom. The featherlight touch sent a ripple through her belly.
Rose blinked her eyes open, her sight landing first on his mouth directly in front of her, then up at his eyes. The Doctor's goofy-serious face had disappeared, replaced by a look she knew well. Curiosity.
“It paid off,” he murmured, and without apparent thought, he was leaning in, replacing his finger with his mouth.
For a long moment it was just a soft press of lips, the mingling of exhaled breath, slightly sweetened by the fruity drink. Gradually their mouths opened and folded together, sliding lip over lip. The Doctor cupped Rose's jaw, his other hand slipping between her shoulder blades and pulling her closer. Rose's hands slid absently up the Doctor's thighs, smoothing over his hips and wrapping around his back, beneath his suit jacket. She felt the slightest rumble from his throat travel up through his lips as her fingers brushed his spine through the shirt, and as if it were a key in a lock, he opened his mouth a little more. Rose felt his tongue slide over her lip, and she immediately met it with her own.
Rose's racing mind had gone blissfully blank. For several long minutes they stayed there, mindless of the world around them, just enjoying the prickle passing over their skin with the movement of their mouths, the points where their bodies made contact. Neither of them tried to push it farther, this was exactly where they wanted to be.
The Doctor's hand meandered down Rose's spine, resting on the small of her back with the tiniest bit of pressure, and automatically she shifted her weight, stepping closer, closing the inch of a gap between their bodies and pressing herself gently against his torso.
As they made contact the Doctor inhaled sharply, breaking the kiss and pulling back so the inch of air was between their bodies again, but not before Rose felt the firm bump press into her stomach. For a second Rose panicked it would be a douse of ice water and she'd have him pull away from her yet again, but he didn't. His fingers curled around the back of her neck, his forehead pressed to hers, as if trying to push his thoughts into her head. She thought it probably worked, it was obvious they were having the exact same ones. It was excitement, caution, and a deep unspoken craving thrumming between them like a tangible thing.
Rose pressed her fingers into his back, not to draw him close again, just to communicate solidarity in this frustrating stalemate. To share her understanding of the necessity that they pause. Breathe.
The Doctor sighed, then leaned in to kiss her one more time, briefly.
A bookmark.
“We should get ourselves home.”
Rose replied with a tiny groan, but nodded and stepped away from the wall. They found each other's hands as the Doctor hopped down, and laced their fingers together for the rest of the silent walk back to the TARDIS.
They parted ways as soon as they got inside, pausing before Rose turned down the hallway to her bedroom. The Doctor looked down at their entwined hands without speaking for a moment, before bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. His pupils were wide and dark when he looked up at her again, searching her face for answers she didn't have.
“Goodnight, Rose.”
“Goodnight, Doctor.”