Work Header

Bayard Ports and Swords

Work Text:

One thing Rose appreciated about Pete’s World was that it had Netflix. It’d helped her get through her long hours working on the dimension canon, the ability to veg out in her spare time, what little she took for herself (or was forced to by Mickey and Jake and Jackie), and get lost in a show. Mickey and Jake joined her when they released a new series of their favorites.

Now the Doctor was with her as they settled on the sofa, and she offered him the comfort of her favorite past time. “At least we have Netflix here,” she said, “so it’s not all bad.”

“They have Netflix in the other universe. We could have had it there.”

Her jaw dropped. “Really?”


“And here I was telling myself this was special.”

“Not so special after all. I’ll tell you one thing they don’t have, though.”


“A Rose Tyler.” He simultaneously crossed his ankles on the ottoman, grabbed a handful of popcorn out of the bowl sitting on her legs, and threw his arm around her shoulders.

She looked up at him, a half-smile playing on her lips. “I see you haven’t lost your charm.”

“Never,” he said through a mouthful. He licked his fingers one by one to divest them of their buttery residue.

She scrunched up her nose. “Don’t stick that hand back in the bowl, Doctor.”

“My other hand is currently occupied.” He squeezed her arm. “How do you expect me to get more, then?”

She bit her lip. Dare she? “Well…”

“Yes?” he asked softly.

How could she not when he looked at her like that? Eyes all wide and curious, like a puppy. She knew that look. He’d given it to her plenty of times, often before a good snog, or… well. More. Was it too soon for more?

Clearly not, if his gaze was any indication. Perhaps the tiptoeing they’d been doing for the past two weeks was ready to turn into a walk or even a… run.

She lifted a popped kernel to his lips, which he accepted with a hum of satisfaction.

“You didn’t seem to mind sharing my microbiome before,” he noted. “In fact, I remember you enjoyed it quite a bit.” Definitely angling for more.

“Sorry. Tony’s slobbery hand is a bit different from yours. Who knows what bugs he’s picked up from nursery.”

“Who knows, indeed.”

“Though…” She shifted so her face was closer to his. “I wouldn’t mind sharing again.”

“Then you won’t mind if I…” His eyes never left hers as he stuffed another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Get more.”

She pursed her lips. “I suppose not.” That wasn’t what she’d hoped for. Perhaps they would tiptoe for a while longer yet.

She picked something to watch, anything to distract her. He laughed at a few of the funny bits, but she was more silent than a stone.

“Rose,” he said, about fifteen minutes in.


He stared at her for a moment before leaning down to kiss her. The popcorn bowl was knocked to the floor, but neither cared as she turned her body towards him. “Sorry,” he said between passes of lips. “I was nervous.”

“You’re making up for it now.” Her hand made its way to the back of his head.

“Is that an observation or a command?”


The movie was forgotten that evening.

They eventually settled into a few shows, one of which was Voltron: Legendary Defender. The whole show was fantastic, the plot, characters, visuals, and music, and they silently found parallels to their own story. Someday they might even talk about it.

As it happened on the day season seven was released, they found themselves on the sofa for a binge. And, as always, the Doctor had to be touching her in some kind of way. He was either gently rubbing her feet after pulling them into his lap or had his arms around her as she reclined back into his chest. Sometimes his arm was simply around her shoulders, or he held her hand or absentmindedly massaged the back of her head.

On this particular evening, when they reached the last episode, his hand was hooked between her thighs, his thumb lightly brushing her skin. That made it difficult to concentrate, but not so much that she couldn’t hear a particular line from one of the characters.

“Guys, my bayard port just opened,” Lance reported.

She nearly choked on her mouthful of soda and leaned forward.

The Doctor placed his hand in the small of her back. “Rose, are you alright?”

She coughed some more before she dissolved into a fit of giggles.

He paused the show. “What’s funny?”

She examined him. He hadn’t caught it. She’d save it for another time, then, at just the right moment. She didn’t know why neither of them had caught it before. “Never mind.”

“No, what’s funny? Tell me.” The corner of his lips pulled up.

“I’ll tell you later, yeah?”

“Fine.” He huffed dramatically as they settled into the story once more.

That opportunity came a week later, after a Vitex gala. They’d decided to stay in the swanky convention hotel for the purposes of making an easy escape.

Jackie hadn’t appreciated the spread that had been published in the gossip rags the next morning of the last event. They’d been caught getting handsy in an area they’d thought was secluded. She especially didn’t appreciate the Doctor’s smirk as he eyed the photos, nor did she appreciate that he’d framed and hung them on the wall just before she and Pete and Tony had made a visit as he and Rose hosted Sunday dinner.

Rose never made him take them down.

In their room that evening, Rose feeling pleasantly bubbly after two glasses of champagne, she giggled as they fell back on the bed, the Doctor without his tuxedo jacket and his hand exploring the access provided by the slit in her skirt and no knickers underneath. She worked on ridding him of his shirt, but stopped when she remembered what she’d planned to say. Then she burst into a fit of laughter.

His lips parted from her neck so he could look down at her. “What’s funny?”

“M-my…” She tried to say what she wanted, but one look at him sent her laughing again.

He smiled. Whatever was so funny must be worth waiting for.



“My… bayard port is open.” She giggled as she watched the wheels spinning in his head.

Then he grinned and started giggling himself. He laid his head on her chest until he could speak again. “Rose Tyler, there’s only one thing to say to that.”

“What’s that?”

He gathered himself up on his hands and knees above her. “Form sword.”

She pressed her palm to his bulging trousers. “Oh, I think it’s well-formed by now.”