Doctor Who: Pick Me Up (1/1)

Title: Pick Me Up
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Rose, GitF
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Word Count: 1,700
Summary: Historical crushes at a party in 18th Century Venice. A sweet bit of fluff.

A/N: Happy!Who fic, for the prompt: Casanova. 'Bella regazza' means beautiful girl in Italian (so says the internet). The info on black clusters comes from a Star Trek Wiki (because I can’t make heads or tails of real astronomical information).

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The Doctor was beginning to regret this trip.

He'd taken Rose to Venice in the 18th century to see and taste and smell the Carnevale, a city wide masquerade party. An excuse for the locals to drink and be more than a little merry before Lent was upon them. The TARDIS had provided an elaborate period gown for Rose, complete with a tiny feathered eye mask. The Doctor, as usual, had not dressed for the occasion.

She had been gone from his side for less than three minutes, but when he'd found her again she was already seemingly deep in conversation with some Italian dandy.

"Doctor, this is Giacomo Casanova," she said in that low sultry voice she used when wanting to make a point.

"Ah, hello!" The Doctor looked between them, as he was being mostly ignored by the pair, and felt a growl begin to grow in his throat. Rose was smiling that smile. And not at him.

"Please, bella regazza, call me Giac," the cad said, kissing her knuckles.

"Giac," Rose repeated with a laugh, her smile growing impossibly wider, tongue poking between her teeth.

The Doctor cleared his throat loudly before the growl could become an indignant roar. That was his smile!

Casanova's lips lingered on Rose's hand, and she did not pull away, so the Doctor did it for her. His fingers closed around her wrist, and as politely as was possible in such an impolite situation, pulled her hand away from the offending Italian's lips, and twined his fingers with hers.

There. That was better.

"So, Giac," the Doctor said, in his most dismissive tone. "What brings you to--"

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Rose interrupted. The Doctor looked at her in surprise and then gulped. Oh, he'd made her angry. What had he done now?

Rose told Casanova that she'd be back in a moment, and pulled the Doctor away from the party, out into a hall. He followed her slowly, the walk of a man towards the gallows.

"What are you doing?" she asked, piercing him with a glare.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean! That, in there!"

"He was slobbering all over you! He was about to start licking your fingers. I was being helpful."

Rose just looked at him. "No, licking is your thing. He was being charming."

"That's what he does, Rose," the Doctor said patiently. "He's the most famous womanizer in your history, and--"

"And he was kissing my hand."

"You're going to be taken in by that? A-- a-- historical crush!"

"Well, why not? You know, it's nice to be noticed once in awhile. For someone to tell me I'm beautiful and all that," she said.

"He's a cad! And you're just being taken in by all the mystique! Just because he's Casanova! Any other bloke and you have--"

Rose jabbed her finger into his chest. "Look you--” She stopped, and breathed angrily through her nose. "Historical crush,” she muttered, “Why I-- I've got three words for you, Doctor. Madame de-bloody-Pompadour." And she turned on her heel and stalked back towards the party.

The Doctor resisted the urge to tell her that was actually four words, and watched her go with a sigh. And now that was coming back to haunt him, was it? He ran his hands over his face and followed after her.

Just in time to see Giacomo Casanova offer Rose his arm and lead her to the dance floor.

The Doctor leaned against the wall, folded his arms over his chest and told himself that he was not pouting. Time Lords did not pout. He was keeping an eye on her, that's all. Never mind that she wasn't in danger, exactly, and never mind that Rose was capable of dealing with far worse than some slimy 18th century playboy, never mind that if she'd been capable of deflecting the advances of one Captain Jack Harkness that seeing through the likes of Casanova would be a walk in the park. Never mind all that.

He was concerned. Mildly concerned. And maybe, just maybe, more than a little jealous. And put out. Definitely put out.

He was suddenly distracted by the sound of familiar laughter ringing over the orchestra.

It was Rose. She was nearly doubled over, clutching her stomach, and while this made the Doctor frown, because what on Earth could Casanova have said to make her laugh like that, he was cheered because the great Casanova, seducer of women, was looking decidedly vexed.

Time for him to cut in.

He cut through the crowd, and tapped the other man on the shoulder. "May I?"

Casanova, still looking a bit bewildered, handed Rose off to the Doctor. She was helpless with laughter, and the Doctor couldn't help but laugh a bit with her as he took her into his arms.

"What's got you in such a state then?"

"He-- he--" she hiccupped. "He said--" She buried her face in his shoulder and took deep breaths. "He asked if it hurt."

"What? What's hurt? Are you hurt?"

"No!" she said, and bit her lip to keep from doubling over again. "He asked if it hurt when I fell from heaven."

The Doctor let out a bark of laughter, and reveled in the feeling of Rose pressed against him, shaking with laughter.

"Ah, see? That's the problem with time travel. Witnessing the birth of clichés."

"It is a hell of a line," she said, much more calmly.

The Doctor began to lead them in a slow waltz, not caring that the tempo of the music wasn't quite right for it. Rose's hand was in his, and her cheek was resting in the vicinity of his shoulder, and he could smell her shampoo.

"I've got to say, yours was much better," she said.

"My what?"

"Your line."

"I've never used a line in my life. Not ever. Never. Don't need 'em."

"Oh, yeah?" she said, looking up and stopping their dance. She held his hand and recited, "I can feel it. The turn of the Earth. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling 'round the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me. Clinging to the skin of this tiny world, and if we let go... Now, forget me, Rose Tyler."

The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. "Ah." He could see how that was some sort of line... especially with Rose's delivery. Low and sultry with her big brown eyes piercing his.

Rose shrugged with feigned nonchalance. "Worked on me, anyway."

He pulled her back into dancing position, and held her close. "I'm glad."

Rose bit her lip, as though she was debating something, and then said, "So come on Doctor. What else have you got? Seduce me with some of that technobabble." Rose looked up at him, nervous and hopeful, through her eyelashes.

The Doctor swallowed. His mouth had gone strangely dry. "Well, I--" He cleared his throat. Rose had issued a challenge, and he couldn't very well leave it alone. Inspiration dawned. "Rose? Have I ever taken you to see a black cluster? There's an absolutely gorgeous one on the edge of the Vico galaxy. All purple and blue stardust."

She looked slightly crestfallen, but covered it up with a smile. "No. We off then?"

The Doctor hummed a negative and went on, his hand at her waist pulling her in closer.

"A black cluster is created when numerous protostars, which are basically newborn stars, with gases hardly out of their gravitational collapse phase and nuclear fusion at their core has just begun-- Well, you've seen one! On Alaxis VI? That second tiny sun? Pink?" Rose nodded, a delighted smile beginning to bloom on her face.

"Anyway," the Doctor continued, getting into his stride, "a black cluster is what happens when a bunch of these newborn stars collapse in on themselves within close proximity to the others. Now the space around the black cluster absorbs energy in massive amounts. We're talking debilitating. Very dangerous to ordinary spacecraft. Lots of spatial phenomenon. Gravitational wavefronts, harmonic amplification effects--"

Rose raised herself onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. The Doctor happily kissed her back.

Rose, being in sole possession of her body and not on the verge of time-vortex related death, was an excellent kisser. The Doctor raised a hand to curve around her neck, holding her in place, because now that she was kissing him so excellently, and was so completely herself, he was not willing to let her stop.

Though eventually Rose required air to breathe, and they broke apart. The Doctor rested his forehead against hers and said, "I hadn't even gotten to the magnetascopic interference."

Rose laughed, and kissed him again.

"Rose Tyler with a science fetish," he teased. "Who knew?"

She blushed. "Don't tell anyone, yeah? Our little secret?"

"Course not! Cause now I know, and you know that I know, and we both know, and I won't be letting anyone else know that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that you want to keep me all to yourself?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Rose."

She made a happy noise, and hugged him tightly. The Doctor hugged back, and kissed her neck, loving that he could give into that urge now, and breathed her in. She was lovely, his Rose, all soft and pink and yellow, and smelling of flowers.

"Tell me more about these black clusters, Doctor," she said, her breath warm on cheek.

"I don't know that I should," he said. "If I tell you any more about how frankly amazing black clusters are, I fear that we may cause a riot. It's an awful lot of technobabble, Rose, and I don't know that you'll be able to contain yourself."

She giggled. "Then take me back to the TARDIS and tell me more about black clusters and this harmonic amplification effect..."

He grinned. "Oh, I think I like it when you talk science-y too." She laughed.

He kissed her once more, briefly, and led her away from the party, waving cheerfully at Giacomo Casanova as they left. There was a science lesson to be had on the TARDIS, and Rose looked to be a very willing student.

Science and seduction. The universe and Rose. Four of his favorite things.

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