Fayth (faythbrady) wrote,

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Fic- Not At All

Title- Not at all
Prompt- C- Clammy
Doctor- 9/Rose
Author- faythbradyRating- PG13/YT
Disclaimer- I own a shiny new severus snape...which does not belong to RTD or Doctor Who affiliates.
Summary- Alpha-Fic prompts.   The Doctor tries to deny what she does to him.

Title- Not at all.

Prompt C- Clammy.


The first time his hands slipped away from the controls the Doctor didn’t think much to it. After all he had spent most of the day with his hands tucked inside his leather jacket, affecting a superior nonchalant pose to inspire confidence in his newest companion.

Not that she really appreciated it, preferring to wander off and almost get caught by the machinations of a piece of skin with a vendetta and mismatched lipstick.

Plus they had almost been burnt to a crisp by the stray rays of a dying sun; it was no wonder his palms were a little sweaty.

She was just another ape. He hadn’t been even remotely worried about her.

Not at all.


He barely noticed it when it happened again except that his poor foot had been the recipient of a loosely held hammer.

He was definitely blaming Rose for that one. If she hadn’t been sneaking around in her new dress there was no way he would have been startled into dropping that thing on his foot.

It was adrenaline that had made his palms slick—you shouldn’t sneak up on a former soldier—no matter what outfit you’re wearing.

Besides, he’d hardly noticed her outfit.


Then, of course, when he passed the port to Harriet Jones he only did it because he was warned about it sliding out of his slippery grip and putting paid to his bluff.

Triplicating the flammability. Really.

He was faced with the decimation of his favourite planet and had to improvise in 10 Downing Street. His nervousness had everything to do with the situation and nothing to do with the blonde prepared to let him aim a torpedo at her.

Nothing at all.


It was getting harder to make excuses but Rose’s tear-stained face was enough to make his scrub his damp fingers against his trousers before taking her hand and leading her back to the TARDIS.

He would never tell her that the key had almost slid from his grasp when she’d dived in and pulled it from his pocket.

He’d never mention that his hands shook because she had been so warm in his arms. Anyway, that was more to do with the fear of being stranded on Earth and eaten by Reapers.

He closed the door on Pete Tyler’s last moments and wrapped her in his embrace, holding those still trembling hands tightly against her back and wondered who he was trying to kid.


No one had died.

For once everyone lived and he was euphoric.

Even that smarmy Captain hadn’t been blown to smug 51st century Con-man pieces. Everyone went on and, in some cases, they were even better off.

It was a great day—he needed more days like that.

Happiness had him grabbing Rose, merriment had him swinging her around in close dance steps, dipping and clutching her tightly and giddiness moistened his fingertips.

He wasn’t jealous of that pretty boy, he wasn’t showing off and he wasn’t affected by Rose’s nearness.

He almost believed it. Almost.


But then it was too late to think about it.

Every cell in his body was dying, burning from the inside out and it was so pointless to lie to himself.

He couldn’t convince himself that it was due to Daleks, or the Vortex.

It was Rose, plain and simple and he wanted to tell her. He wanted to say…

As his hands slipped off the controls for the last time he knew it was because of the terrified girl standing across the room and he conjured up a smile.

“I just want to tell you that you were fantastic.”

She nodded and filled him with a familiar warmth and he stared down at gold outlining his slender fingers.

The next thought that slipped through his mind was his final one as he exploded into light. But it hung in the air.

In his next incarnation would she still make his palms sweat?

Tags: alphafic, doctorwho, fanfic, prompt
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