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No Need to Take Drastic Measures

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Rose’s teeth are chattering by the time she spots the cabin. They’re on some famous leisure planet, and her mobile, which can get a signal nearly any place or time in the universe, hasn’t got any reception on this god-forsaken mountain, so they haven’t been able to call for help, and the TARDIS is too far away to get to in the sudden storm. Rose talked until she started shivering too hard to continue. The Doctor is silent as well, has been since he tossed his pinstriped jacket at Rose. Until it got too cold, it had felt warm and smelled just like him. Now, though, she can’t smell anything.

She can’t hardly think of anything, except that the cabin ahead might have a bit of warmth inside.

“There we are.” The Doctor doesn’t even sound cold at all, the git. “We should be able to ride out the storm in that cozy little cabin.”

Rose doesn’t bother responding, instead pouring all her energy into getting to the door ahead. Besides, she’s so cold she wants to scream, and she thinks screaming is what might happen if she opens her mouth.  

When they reach the cabin, Rose doesn’t bother knocking; the lights are off, and she’s not standing outside waiting for an answer that isn’t gonna come. She tries the handle immediately, taking shelter in the tiny building as quickly as she’s able with her aching limbs, and the Doctor follows right behind her.

“Hello?” he calls. “Anybody home?”

There’s no response, and the cabin is fairly dark. It’s also small enough that as soon as her eyes have adjusted, Rose can see that it’s definitely empty.

“Well then,” the Doctor says, closing the door and looking at Rose with a grin, “so much for finding company.”

If she had more energy, Rose would laugh. The whole reason they came to this planet in the first place was so that Jack could find some very particular sorts of company. When they parted ways, Jack had instructed them to find some pleasurable company of their own, adding in a lusty wink and making a crude gesture. As it is, though, instead of wrapping herself around some willing bloke, Rose just crosses her arms tighter across her chest and starts looking for ways to warm up.

Her search doesn’t take long. The cabin has just one room, with the kitchen and bed just a few steps away from each other. The only light is what’s coming in from outside, which isn’t much with all the snow, and it’s going to get darker fast. It’s warmer inside, at least, with the walls blocking the wind, but…

“There’s j-just t-the one little bed,” Rose manages, “and just one blanket on it. How are we b-both supposed to get warm?”

“Oh, I’m alright.” The Doctor grins again, but Rose moves closer, and she can see that the expression is a touch too tight, and it looks like his lips might even be a bit blue. She hasn’t actually seen him look cold before.

She looks at the bed, then back at the Doctor. “Honestly, Doctor, I d-don’t think I can get warm enough by myself.”

The Doctor looks more vulnerable than usual without his normal pinstriped armor, and his eyes are dark with some suppressed emotion as he studies her. “Then we’ll share,” he says finally, grin pasted on. “Brilliant. We’ll both be warm and toasty.”

The Doctor really must be cold to be giving in so fast. Either that or Rose looks even worse than she feels and he’s worried for her.

Normally, Rose thinks she’d probably find some way to put off getting in bed with the Doctor, both to hold onto her own sanity and to avoid pressuring him into anything. Not that she’d have invited him in the first place, not under normal conditions, even if she really wanted to. Her and the Doctor, they’re not like that.

She’s pretty sure, anyway.

However, right now, she’s so cold that she can’t think of anything but warmth. She climbs under the covers without removing anything, pulling her borrowed jacket tight as the can around her and trapping the blanket between her torso and the wall. Rose looks up at the Doctor, waiting.

His hands have found their way to his pockets, and he clears his throat, looking around, eyes flickering past the bed without properly settling on her.

“Doctor,” Rose hisses. If he doesn’t get in soon, she’ll have to figure out how tight she can get the covers around herself.

He clears his throat once more, taking his hands from his pockets and rubbing his neck. “Right then.”

The Doctor doesn’t meet her eyes as he climbs into bed facing her, tucking the covers behind him. The Doctor is usually a little cooler than Rose, but right now, even with the few inches he left between them, it feels like he’s radiating heat.

There’s not a lot of conscious thought involved in her motions as she reaches forward and pulls him toward her. His resistance lasts only a fraction of a second before he lets her succeed, and she buries her frozen nose against his chest. She shivers, her whole body wracked with chills now that she’s warming up, and after a few long seconds, the Doctor’s arm goes around her back, rubbing soothingly through the tremors.

“You know,” he says, “it’s actually good that you’re so cold. Means there shouldn’t be any lasting damage, no need to take drastic measures.”

Drastic measures?

Rose has a sudden image of the two of them stripping naked for warmth, and she’s pretty sure the next of her shivers isn’t entirely from cold.

Down, girl.

At least it’s probably a good sign that her mind can wander again already, right?

The Doctor falls silent, and Rose isn’t sure how much time passes before she finally stops shivering. She’s able to take stock of her situation then, to really take in how close she and the Doctor are in the tiny bed.

Touch has become pretty normal between them as they’ve continued traveling together. They hold hands more often, even hug more, especially since he got this face. She’s almost gotten used to touching and being touched by the Doctor.

But this? This is a lot more than a simple touch.

For one thing, there’s not so much as an inch of space between them. Usually, if they hug for more than a second or two, it’s just their upper bodies, shoulders and arms and nothing below the belt. When they do end up flush together, it’s usually only for a few seconds, usually while the Doctor spins her in triumph or celebration, something she’s always found dizzying in more than one way. Now, they’re pressed together, from Rose’s head down to her toes. Her breasts are pressed against him, and she can feel his legs tangled with hers, their hips very nearly lined up perfectly. Her hands are trapped between them, still clinging to his jacket.

Their current position also feels different than usual because, well…

It feels an awful lot like cuddling, and that’s just not something they really do. The Doctor is even relaxing against her, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head, and she’s not sure she’s ever seen him this relaxed while touching someone. Not that he avoids touch exactly, especially not with her, but there’s always a little bit of tension in him, like he can’t let his guard down. And now here he is, without his jacket, with his arms around her, and he’s actually letting himself relax.

Maybe he thinks she’s asleep. As soon as the thought occurs to her, she’s torn between making sure he knows she’s awake and simply enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. Before she can decide, though, the Doctor speaks, his voice quiet.

“Feeling better?”

So much for him thinking she’s asleep.

“Yeah,” she says, matching his careful tone. “What about you?”

“I was fine,” he says archly, sniffing, and she feels herself smile in response. After a moment, he relents. “I’m much warmer now. Thank you.”

It falls quiet again, and Rose shifts, unclenching her fists and resting her hands flat against his chest. Even without the jacket, there’s still a couple layers of clothing between them, but the action feels intimate anyway. She holds still, waiting for the Doctor to tense again, ready to pull back at the first sign of discomfort.

Instead, his hand runs down her back, then up again.

Does he actually want this?

Rose has thought about it, of course. When she’s tired or had a few too many drinks, she imagines it a lot, what it would be like if she and the Doctor did things like cuddle and snog and basically everything her mum already thinks they’re doing. Jack doesn’t help, often encouraging Rose when they drink together, telling her that there’s no way the Doctor isn’t “ass over teakettle” for her, not with the way the Time Lord looks at her.

She doesn’t really believe it, not usually. Oh, there are times she wonders whether they’re…

But usually, the only thing Rose is sure of is that he cares for her very much, and that’s enough for her.


Usually, they aren’t cuddling in a tiny bed, keeping each other warm while a snowstorm rages in the dark outside the walls, and the Doctor isn’t usually relaxed and warm against her, their bodies lined up perfectly, making it much too easy to think about what it might feel like if the clothes were gone.

She suddenly feels a little warm despite the chill outside the covers, but she doesn’t dare move again and break whatever spell they’re under right now.

Rose swallows and breaks the silence, instead.

“How long do you reckon we’ll be stuck in this cabin?”

The Doctor hums, the sound vibrating against Rose, who closes her eyes to focus on her breathing.

“We’ll be fine come morning. Snowstorms here aren’t unheard of, but they only happen at night. Doesn’t bother most of the planet’s patrons; they just use being trapped for the night to keep on—” He stops abruptly, and Rose can almost feel his desire to rub the back of his neck. “Erm.”

“Dancing?” she supplies, feeling confident enough to tease now that he’s flustered.

“Dancing. Yes.”

There’s a moment of vivid memory, of intense eyes as she danced with her first Doctor, and it takes her a second to realize the music she’s hearing isn’t only in her mind. The Doctor is actually humming quietly, to the same tuned they once used to dance.

Rose is nothing like cold anymore, and her mind is humming with what-ifs and maybes and want.

As much as she wants this to continue, something feels different since they got in this bed, different enough she feels like she has to ask, “Is everything alright, Doctor? You seem… You’re right content being stuck in this little cabin.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” he says, tone light. “I’m stuck with you, aren’t I?”

Her breath catches at the casual affection in his voice, and she isn’t sure what to say.

He makes it easier by tensing for a moment, then exhaling, relaxing once more and…

Did he just nuzzle my head?

“Sometimes,” he says, “I am an idiot. A brilliant one, but an idiot nonetheless.” Rose can feel her hair stir as he breathes. “I’ve been holding back because… Well.” Rose counts to ten before he continues speaking. “Humans. You’re so fragile, normally. Something simple as an unexpected snowstorm, and you could be gone forever.” He pulls her a little closer, and Rose isn’t even sure he’s aware of it. “But you’re not gone. You’re here, and I’ve been an idiot.”

He falls silent, apparently having said all he’s going to. And what he’s said might not be much, not on the surface, but Rose is good at reading between the Doctor’s lines. She knows what he’s trying to say. Her only doubt at all is because she so badly wants to hear it, she thinks it’s possible she’s misunderstanding, hearing what she wants to hear, hearing that he—

“Rose Tyler.” His voice is gravelly, laced with hope and affection and the slightest trace of uncertainty. Rose takes a deep breath before lifting her head from his chest, pulling back only just far enough that she can see him, see how dark his eyes are as they watch her, as they trace her face before coming to a stop on her lips.

The hell with it.

It takes almost no effort to press her lips to his, and she doesn’t have a chance to even consider pulling away before he’s returning the kiss, then deepening it.

Her imagination is definitely not this good.

His tongue strokes hers, and she gives as good as she gets, her fingers curling into his shirt as his hand slides low on her back and pulls her ever closer. She’s breathless in no time, and despite the fact that the Doctor seems to be breathing completely normally, she can feel his erection pressing into her, leaving no doubt that he’s just as affected by the kissing and proximity as she is.

Rose lets go of his shirt, trailing her hands down his torso and pulling the offending garments out of his trousers. She slows her movements as she slips her fingers under his shirts, skin making contact with skin, giving herself a moment to enjoy it and giving the Doctor a moment to protest if he objects.

His hands are under her top before she starts moving again, his consent enthusiastic. She squeaks when he flips them so he’s on top, hissing when the covers let in air that’s far too cold. While she reaches to fix the covers, the Doctor distracts her by kissing his way down her neck.

“I’ve thought of this,” he murmurs against her skin, moving lower. “How soft you are,” he says, lifting her shirt and disappearing under the covers. “How good you taste.” Rose gasps as he starts putting his mouth to other tasks, talking every time his mouth isn’t busy. One hand finds its way into his hair while the other keeps their cocoon secure.

Rose’s eyes slip shut while he continues his ministrations and then moves downward.

“Thought about what sounds you might make.”

She rewards him with another gasp.

“Thought about how it might feel if I—”

Rose moans, rocking into his touch.

“How you might move when did this.”

She whines, already so close she feels like she might burst, and the Doctor seems to sense it, his voice dropping even lower before he goes for broke, using his mouth and fingers to amazing effect.

“How long it might take you to fall apart.”

He goes silent then, otherwise occupied until finally—

“Oh God, Doctor!”

The orgasm crashes into her so hard that it’s like time has stopped, and by the time she’s come down, the Doctor is hovering over her, their bodies lined up nicely again, and he’s beaming happily at her, his job well done.

Rose laughs and pulls him in for a kiss. It doesn’t take long before that leads to more again, this time with a satisfying finish for the both of them.

Afterward, they lie in each others arms, warm under the covers despite having removed clothing and shoes. It feels a little like a dream, it’s so perfect. They’ll go to sleep, and when they wake up, they’ll make their way back to the TARDIS. If she’s the luckiest person of all time, she and the Doctor will stay just how the have been, except with a good deal more of what’s happened tonight.

At the sudden thought of the TARDIS’s other occupant, Rose starts snickering.

“What?” the Doctor asks, sounding tired but interested.

“I just realized, Jack is gonna be smug for ages.”

The Doctor huffs and pulls her closer.

“Let him. I’ll toss him out the airlock if he tries to stop us.”

Rose snickers again, knowing full well their friend will do anything but try to stop them.

It’ll be worth it though, any of the teasing, as long as she has the Doctor.