tampered | closed: motives and with-actions can within

closed: motives and with-actions can within

When: Boxing Day eveningish. Right after the best display of literal self-loathing any curse has yet been able to produce.
Rating: S for Scolding, with an occasional pSH for post-Scolding Hug.
Characters: The Doctor (with the hair)

am_i_being_rude and Rose Tyler

iam_thebadwolf
Summary: Ten ran into the kitchen to get ice for Rose's face and didn't come back.
Log:

Jumping on the excuse to leave the room, he'd all but bolted into the kitchen entirely under the presumption that he was really going to get some ice and then go back out there. A few minutes later now, and all he had was some melting ice in a bit of square cloth he couldn't identify as either a dishrag or a washcloth, supposing there even was a difference. The entire sequence of events was still playing out repeatedly in his mind, mostly out of sheer disbelief, as though going back through it enough would show him the point where it didn't actually happen. And it wasn't really so much just this single incident. Things had been building to a head like this for a while now, and now that they were here, he found he really wasn't very sure what to do about them.

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In his opinion nearly anything is good to have lying around. He is secretly just a very proficient pack-rat; although it might have been easier to hide this trait in the TARDIS, where there was quite a bit more room. As it stands he probably just has slowly been accumulating little things everywhere in the flat.

'Good point. Maybe I ought to just keep it indefinitely.'

He can be possessive over people as well, it just takes more energy. He's very possessive over her, and everyone who travels with him, except probably Adam. He still doesn't like Adam. Probably due to possessiveness almost as much as Adam being a twat in the end.

She's beginning to see that but she's okay with the pack-rat tendencies. She might even encourage them by providing him with spaces to put things: boxes, end tables, drawers and the like. It's not as if they're filling the space with a great deal of furniture.

"Depends on what they're goin' to do with it." She's not encouraging thievery for the sake of thievery but if he's got a reason, well might as well encourage it. She stretches a bit pressing a kiss to the very top of his shoulder, near his neck. It's the closest she can get to bare skin in her position.

Not liking Adam had nothing to do with Adam liking Rose at all either.

He can and will find ways to fill all of them up. And then not be able to find them unless he absolutely needs them later, at which point the mental filing system accurately kicks in.

'Well... As I understand it Tony Stark used to be a weapons manufacturer. Is that enough reason, you think?' There's also that you could feasibly make a very powerful laser which he considers to be almost always a bad thing anyway, nevermind that there are several different timelines and cultures being represented in the City, the majority of which shouldn't have access to such things. Which is a little flimsy by way of reason. He lifts a hand to where she's got her arms around him and follows the length of them a couple times before letting his arm lay across and sort of hold them in place.

Not in the least.

She'll start buying high wardrobes and hutches and that sort of thing with a billion little cubbies and drawers in them.

She purses her lips a bit at that though he can't see it. "Sounds like a fair bit of reasonin' to me. Somethin' like that could do a lot of damage in this place in the wrong hands."

She smiles when he lays his arm across hers and squeezes him in a bit of a reverse kind of hug then brings her legs up to wrap around him, her feet in his lap.

She likes the possessiveness and the jealousy. Even then it was nice.

''Zactly. I'm keeping it safe. And them, from using it wrong. I'm very nearly doing them a favour.'

He glances down at the feet in his lap for a moment, having gone back to running his hand along the far bit of her forearm just under it, and then decides to do something else. He sets what he did have in his lap - the infuser - down to the side and instead starts to knead at the sole of one of her feet. It's right there anyway. Why not?]

"Ought to write you a thank you note." She says it in a teasing sort of voice.

It surprises her when he starts rubbing her foot but she relaxes after a second or so, relaxing against his back again. "Hmmm you're good at that. Should've known you would be."

He laughs a bit. 'If I got thank you notes from even half the people someone thinks I ought to get thank you notes from, I think I could probably wallpaper the side of a Class Two Starliner. Prefer the silent sort anyway.'

He gets into a fairly steady pattern with it, allowing the movements to warm up his hands and beginning to move up her calves - what he can get of them right now, anyway - when it seems like both feet have been thoroughly attended to. 'I'm good at everything, yes. Lots of hidden talents, me.'

"I'll remember that. Silent sort of thanks you."

She smiles at his ego. It's either evidence that he's feeling better or that he's at least pretending he's feeling better. It's hard to tell right now. After a moment's hesitation she unwraps one leg and her arms, scooting around to the side with her legs in his lap, looking up at him. "Lucky I'm gettin' to discover some of 'em."

He slows his ministrations while she readjusts her own position, but resumes things when she's settled back down. It's a very tactile, immediate sort of doctoring, which does, on a very calm and low level, make him feel better. He likes helping people - he wouldn't have picked the name if he didn't. Ease of stress or something of that nature, especially when likely caused by him, is a good thing to do. He looks over at her when she starts talking and gives her a bit of a soft smile. 'Yeah. Don't do this for just anybody. Only the special ones.'

She props herself on her hands as she watches him, that soft sort of smile still on her face. That makes a good deal of sense and on some level she probably realises what he's doing. In any case, she's not going to stop him, not as long as he seems content doing this. "I like the sound of that, bein' one of the special ones. Comes with benefits." She nods to his lap. It's really not the biggest of the benefits though; at least, not as far as she's concerned. He's probably aware of that.

There's a steady rhythm to the kneading happening. He knows where all the muscles and tendons are and based on that by itself knows a little bit better which way to rub along a muscle or where to push on a tendon. He's mostly done with the calf nearest him and before moving to the other, he lifts this leg gently under her knee and attends to her hamstrings and such. 'Lots of benefits. Special benefits for the special ones.' He knows what she means but at the moment it's still sort of transitioning between that knowing-it-mentally and knowing-it-intrinsically. But she's told him several times in different ways by now, I think.

She just relaxes more and more as he works his way up her leg. She shifts a little so she's sort of against the bed a bit more just because she is relaxing. She reaches over and grabs several pillows though to prop herself up so she can still watch him.

"Ought to add some of those benefits to your time and space spiel. You'd have a line forming." She says it teasingly because she wouldn't want there to be anymore special ones. She has told him several different ways and times by now. She figures repetition is the best way to get a point across to him.

He pretends to consider that as he works around to the top of her thigh and then shakes his head as if dismissing the thought.

'Nah, bit of false advertising, isn't it? I'm not sure how many people consider running, hopping, or whathaveyouing for their lives to be that much of a bonus.' Then, a couple of moments later as an afterthought, 'Start to feel a bit like a travel agent, too.' He's not sure how much he'd like that, even if it effectively is in some definitions exactly what he is. Travel agent or a tour guide, even if one with a somewhat pronounced penchant for peril. At this point, he blames the sheer amount of knowledge he already possesses to be the reason it takes so much repetition to get some things to stick; it takes a while to cram anything new into that brain of his, being so crowded as it is already. That's his excuse, anyway.

"Good point. Really better the way you do it anyhow. I'm not much for standin' in lines anyhow. Or sharin' you." She gives a dramatic sigh, grinning at him and resting her other foot against his thigh. "Looks like you're stuck with me in that case."

It makes a bit of sense. Really she chalks it up more to habit than anything. Habit and being alone too much, too long.

He's looking down at what he's doing but he does grin at her comment, looking sideways at her when she continues. 'I'll just have to learn to cope with it. What a difficult task ahead of me.' He punctuates this with a pat to her leg. Also because he's moving to the other one, reaching over the one closest to him to start in on the muscles in that calf.

That's probably a far more accurate reasoning, but not one he'd ever admit to, obviously.

She grins back at him, shifting her legs to make it easier on him. "M'sure you'll rise to the occasion. Sorta always do. I'll try to make sure I don't get too borin' for you. Could try different colors on my hair if you want some variety." It's teasing really. She thinks the blonde suits her too much to change it.

Obviously. She knows. That's what counts, as she's going to be the one dealing with it.

'I think,' he starts seriously, 'That as long as you keep doing two or three fairly easy things that you won't lose my attention.' He's still looking down for the most part, for a couple of reasons, but at each one of these things he glances over at her again.

'Talking, for starters. Very basic. Breathing, even more basic. And... being here. Considering it's hard to do the first without the last and that two out of three depend quite squarely on the other third, they don't seem like unreasonable stipulations.'

Which is clearly... He knows she's playing, and he's meant to be playing back, although she's doing a bit better at it for the moment. This is more along the tones that hers had been in. 'You'd do something other than blonde? I'd lose one of my three base descriptions of you.'

"The talkin' bit might be difficult but I think I can manage those three." Because the only way she could ever be considered quiet is in comparison to him during a particularly intense rambling session and as mentioned a time or two, her rambling, both internally and externally, seems to be getting worse the more time she spends with him.

She tilts her head, furrowing her brow a bit at him. "You've got more descriptors of me than pink and yellow? Could just go all pink, you know. Didn't seem to mind that one day." Nah, she wouldn't, not for more than a wig and a gag.

He has a tendency to impact and influence the people around him like that, for better or worse, or just louder, in this case. Personally he'd explain it away as sheer magnetism and charisma, or perhaps dominant Time Lordiness being dominant and lordly, but sometimes he's really not sure what it is that makes people pay so much attention to him; frequently simultaneously listening intently while managing to not actually hear a single thing he's trying to tell them. Or what's more fun, clearly actually hearing him because it's nearly impossible to do the exact opposite of what someone's just said without knowing what the original meaning was.

He takes a moment to hold up one hand and tick these off as he says them. 'Blonde, girl, about this high, and sometimes I ask if you came running through. Or if they've seen a Union Jack fly past, but that's on very specific occasions.' They're quite basic descriptors by the normal Earth standards, but out and about the universe actually can narrow things down well enough. Somehow the blonde thing is quite helpful. 'You go all one colour and then you can blend in like a chameleon or one of those octopuses if you ever find yourself standing in front of a pink wall. Could be useful.'

She really doesn't mind being impacted primarily because it means he's around to do it. Of course. Dominant Time Lordiness being dominant and lordly, that would get one of those snort laughs out of her. For her part, she listens, quite well thank you very much. She just doesn't always choose to heed his advice.

"Guess I'll have to keep the blonde. Don't mind anyway. S'what m'used to." The blonde thing can be ridiculously helpful. She usually uses tall, thin, great hair. The great hair bit, not as helpful as the blonde thing; apparently, it's subjective.

"If m'blendin' in, how would you find me then?"

Secretly knowing she'd laugh at it might be why he doesn't say it that often aloud. Sort of. Not constantly, anyway. Well. The important thing is that he's aware of the probable reaction. He does, however, consider listening and not hearing and listening and not heeding to be only very slimly divided.

'Me too.' He's quite attached to how she looks now. 'Used to your blonde, I mean.' Maybe saying something about a man in a suit would be more helpful, even if the great-hair adjective is far more accurate in his own opinion.

'I'm me. I was mostly thinking about how it would be fun though.'

And yet, it's one of those things he keeps constantly running into with his companions. Coincidence? Probably not, Doctor. You wouldn't have anything to do if your companions listened and heeded.

Now see, if he told her that, there'd be no chance of ever being anything except blonde and yes, man in a suit would be infinitely more helpful however it's not one of those things she automatically jumps to when she thinks about him. The great hair and the tall both take precedent over the suit. She'll have to work on giving a more general description of him, one that the average by-stander would recognise.

"Complicated game of hide and seek, yeah?"

The introduction of this idea will end well.

It's clearly because he's just got a face nobody listens to rather than any sort of being-wrong on his part. Or possibly it's a defining human racial characteristic to require learning absolutely everything through personal experience rather than being able to gain knowledge second-hand. Although, yes, the constant having to rescue companions does account for quite a bit of his usual schedule.

Has he not? He'd assumed it was inherent in the telling her she was beautiful; which come to think of it might have itself been somewhat inherent in the telling her she was brilliant... Grow up in a culture of people who change their face a dozen times, commenting on individual beauty might fall a little by the wayside. And also he's just very crap about assuming things are apparent or understood through actions.

'Professional hide and seek. Challenging hide and seek. The sort of hide and seek where you actually get to use all of your physical senses instead of just the basic five.'

Yes, totally.

And the face before this one was the same kind of face, despite being a very different face. Right. Of course. Although, really the defining characteristic might be true as well.

She's a young human woman in love with someone she is often absolutely in awe of. It's one of those things that she's never going to completely get on some level probably, even as she gets more confident both in herself and in them as a couple. She does like when he compliments her, regardless of whether it's by telling her she's brilliant or beautiful. It makes her preen a bit. That kind of culture really isn't so bad. Most of the time, she gets the apparent and the understood through actions sorts of things. He's quite lucky in that respect because she does know.

Sometimes he forgets, she only has the five but she'll gladly indulge his other ones while flying blindly with her five. "Yeah? Ought to get a game goin' sometime."

Already put it on the list. She will make the rules up as they go since she's the one at the disadvantage.

Very lucky in that respect. He seems to consistently run across people who, while perhaps not always having the best self-confidence or esteem, still manage to not require constant verbal reassurance. He's all for the being there and the actions, mostly because it makes more sense personally. He's constantly looking up to make sure she's watching before he does something impressive or starts talking in earnest about something interesting. But yes, very much quite lucky.

Someday he'll show her how to be more aware of the minor senses she's got that most humans don't consider senses. There's not a whole lot to be done about not noticing most of them - there's a reason most people don't consider them as such - but maybe a little. For the most part it is just forgetting you're not how everybody who looks like you is sometimes.

'Yeah, we should. Proper, full city game. Hide anywhere. Bit of a small playing field, but we're both very clever.' At this point, he's mostly just resting his hands on her leg, having gotten to both of them in fairly equal measures. Also his hands are a little tired and one's sore from beating himself up, and no I will not get tired of pronoun fun.

That is just cheating off the get-go, even if he does have unfair natural advantages.

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