Warnings/Spoilers: mention of sex
Summary: “Do you miss your old life?” He thinks about it, really thinks about it. He doesn’t want to hurt her but he doesn’t want to lie to her either.
Word Count: ~1000
Notes: inspired by the song 'I Just Sighed. I Just Sighed, Just So You Know' by Los Campesinos!
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I making any profit off of this. I'm just playing around.
She lies next to him in their bed. It is odd for him to think of it as their bed. When was the last time he had a bed? It’s still hard for him to come to terms with the human part of him. He is constantly hungry, and when he isn’t constantly hungry he is constantly tired, and when he isn’t constantly tired he’s constantly horny. He is eternally grateful for Rose. He taught Julia Child everything she knew so after he cooks them both a meal (she tends to scrunch up her nose and examine it like it’s a bomb ready to explode, questioning what, exactly, this strange dish is- it almost always has bananas in it- before giving him a look that says, quite plainly, you’re lucky I love you, before taking a bite. Sometimes she likes it; sometimes she grimaces and politely suggests fish and chips) they lay together, and depending on what constant he is feeling they either sleep or make love. No matter what it is he is grateful to wake up next to her. She looks beautiful in the mornings- he tells her this once and she scoffs, saying “the human part of you has turned you soft,” but she blushes a gorgeous shade of pink and rolls on top of him, and the constantly hungry part of him can wait, because this is his favourite thing. Rose, naked and on top of him, or spread out beneath him, her nails (always painted blue, a reminder of the adventures they no longer have) digging into his skin. She leaves long scratches down his back and he wants to hold her, wants to wrap her in his arms and tell her that she doesn’t need to mark him, that he’s hers and he’s not leaving her again. Instead he just kisses her, as afraid of losing her as she is of losing him.
The first time they had sex he was taken aback by the whole experience. He was blown away by the sensations of it all, of her lips on forbidden parts of his skin, of her breasts pushed against his bare chest, the amazing noises that would escape her mouth. He isn’t sure what’s so different about it, can’t pinpoint the reason that this sex feels so much different from Time Lord sex. Maybe it’s how human the whole ordeal is.
Or maybe it’s that’s it’s Rose.
(The first time they slept together he was surprised at how quickly he tired. He couldn’t last as long as he used to- on the other hand, he vastly preferred the human orgasm, and Rose never seemed to complain.)
It is one of those nights when the constantly horny part of him had won out over the others. He is lying on his stomach and Rose is beside him, resting on an elbow. Her other hand is tracing shapes and stories on his back. They are not stories of their old life- they are stories of their life now, of the life she never thought she could have with him and the life he never thought he could have at all.
She traces over the mole between his shoulder blades, leans forwards to kiss his skin. He can feel her smile.
“Remember when you got this?” She says, tracing the mole with her fingers, lightly, barely touching him. They never talk about their old life- they are both afraid of it. Afraid that this new life isn’t enough for the other.
“I remember the look on your face when I regenerated.”
She giggles. “I was so afraid.”
“I’m sorry.” He says this sincerely. It is perhaps the most sincere thing he’s ever said. He never wants to frighten her. “Do you- do you wish I had never regenerated?”
Instead of answering, she asks him a question in return.
“Do you miss your old life?”
He thinks about it, really thinks about it. He doesn’t want to hurt her but he doesn’t want to lie to her either.
He thinks about his life. Thinks about his old life, thinks about the war, thinks about the faces of all those he’s loved over the years. People who are gone. People who have died for him, who have forgotten him. The one’s whose lives he’s ruined. The ones who moved on. He never stopped needing them, even if they grew out of him.
The Time Lord he was could never do this. The Time Lord he was needed the stars, needed the adventure, the running, the danger. It distracted him from himself. He tried so hard to be good, to do good things, to erase the sins that he is forced to relive every time he closes his eyes.
Those sins are still there. He still knows all the names of the stars.
But he is not that Time Lord anymore. Now he is human, as well. Now he is content with just knowing the names of the stars. He misses it sometimes. How could he not?
But there are new things to explore. New territories to discover. Like learning all the spots on Rose that makes her body clench, or her favourite foods, or her different types of smiles. There is adventure every morning when he opens his eyes and sees her beside him, hogging the blankets and taking up half the bed, and danger (God, the danger) in learning just when jokes about her mum go too far (this was a particularly hard lesson to learn).
He still travels, still explores. They travel the world, not by TARDIS but by plane, with Rose’s hand in his.
Time passes. The universe does, too. It waves at him in his human home, with his human wife, laughs at his beating human heart.
He waves back. Watches it pass. And that little part of him that still itches for all of time and space at his fingertips once more is quelled by Rose.
He knows the names of all the stars but he doesn’t need them anymore.
“No,” is his eventual answer. “This is the only life I could ever want.”
She smiles. Kisses him. Says, “You’re the only one I want this life with.”
He kisses her back, and then they don’t speak for a while.