[ He loves this peek into her life, to know that she trusts him with even just these little glimpses. He takes note of the warring emotions behind her expressions, toiling about in her eyes. Talk of the past is often a minefield, he knows that well enough. He picks and chooses what he shares as well, and his very ancient past is perhaps one of the bigger mysteries.
There's usually never time for talking like this with anyone in his travels, but even if there was, he wouldn't have felt close enough to even consider it. Not for any lack of love or fondness, it's only that sharing such vulnerabilities is a rarer thing for the Doctor.
As she speaks and he keeps hold of her gloved hand, he thinks about asking to take off just one of her gloves briefly, wanting to feel the touch of her skin. He will. In a moment. ]
My first dance, the first ever, was unremarkable honestly. Bit of a letdown, you know, all the build up of it and the music was off-kilter, the company was middling at best. A good friend, he was, but a terrible dancer. I think I fell over more than we managed to dance! But I do quite vividly recall the most memorable dance I've ever shared with anyone.
[ And why? Because the most memorable is the dance they're sharing now. Will he tell her that, though?
Instead, he smiles at her and decides to get bold. ]
This glove just won't do. Let me hold your hand, for a moment? I mean, really hold it. I am holding it, I realize, by the strictest definition of the term, but - you know what I mean.
[ Though, he wouldn't push her if it's too much. He thinks she knows that by now, too. ]
[ Vanessa does her best to imagine the Doctor as a young man, awkwardly practicing with his friend, just as Vanessa had done what she could with Peter's inability to keep tempo. He had been all elbows and knees when they were of the age to learn, too, and Vanessa had been taller. He did eventually grow taller than her, but certainly not to tower.
She likes the Doctor's height. He's tall enough to envelop her with an embrace should he wish to, but not so high up that it's an imposition. It's just so that when they dance, the tilt of her head and curve of her neck feels natural, and she barely notices that the rest of the world has been skewed off-kilter beyond his singular presence.
Although she's eager to hear more about his most memorable dance, of which she is imagining must have taken place on a far away world with alien beauty, his sudden focus on her glove softens her smile to something different. Her steps slow, and with consideration, she'll glance to her hand.
Of course she knows it, but his hesitancy is still being disciplined. ]
If you want to take my hand...
[ Her already gentle grip on his hand lightens yet more, her thumb teasing against the lining of his palm. So much gentler than the glint in her eye. Is she to remove her glove for him, when it's his spoken desire? If it's what he wants, then he shouldn't waste time asking. ]
Well - [ The smile on his face now shifts from something light and breezy to something between enthralled and intrigued. As always with her lately, the Doctor feels pleasantly adrift in the world around him, anchored instead to every moment with Vanessa.
He won't waste time now, though he debates ripping it off or tugging it slowly. Moving slow throws them further out of step for their dance, but he's focused and intent on something else now. There's pleasure to be found in conquering quickly, yet as he's been learning here, it's sometimes far more rewarding to take things a bit slower. So he pulls at her glove, revealing her wrist, which he kisses softly. Only a half second more and the glove is off, with another kiss pressed to her palm. Her glove is tucked into his pocket as an after-thought, and then he presses his palm to hers before lacing their fingers together. ]
You won't be needing that glove back anytime soon. This is much better.
[ He couldn't be bothered to consider anyone else around them now. If asked, he would quite earnestly insist there must not be a crowd at all. It's only Vanessa, after all. She's all that he sees, in any case. Tugging her just slightly closer, he looks down at their feet briefly, then back up to her, clumsily guiding them back into a rhythm. ]
[ There are machinations turning behind his eyes, as if he seeks some secret path to reveal her hand when he begins pulling off her glove. Vanessa doesn't realize that her breath is caught until it's gone and her hand is exposed to the chill of the air–save for the warmth of little kisses that he has already taken to habit. Not the back of her hand like a gentleman would, but her wrist and her palm, like a lover.
Earlier he had not been bold enough, and now his boldness dares to draw attention. At least, it would garner glances on the plaza outside Grandage Place. He's never touched her so in public before, but nobody seems to be paying them any mind, so long as they remain out of people's way. This isn't Grandage Place, or anywhere in London. Whether or not they save these people, she'll never see them again. She'll never see him again. It's enough to let her indulge in such an intimate moment, with her pulse racing so fast that it's a hum in her ears. She can hear his voice through the drone of it, and that's all she cares to pay any attention to. The crowd is easily forgotten as she leans into his pull.
The twining of their fingers isn't standard for the dance, but she isn't to correct it, only gripping at his arm with her other hand a bit more tightly in turn. She had begun the dance, but here she's wanting for him to take the lead, for how dizzy such a simple touch has made her. Well, far more than the touch.
When she speaks, it's with a breathless start, as if just remembering now what he had been talking of earlier. Perhaps a distraction regarding his fantastical journeys will guide her back to her own reality. ]
[ His eyes flicker for the briefest of moments from her eyes to her lips, then back to her eyes. It's such a quick thing, involuntary, and there's a slight upturning of his own lips in a particularly languid manner, suggesting he's in no rush for this moment to ever end. But all moments do, he knows. Everything ends, so something can begin again.
What happens for them after this? Is it only an ending, or does a different beginning await them somewhere else, in a place far beyond where they stand together now?
It occurs to him belatedly that he's stepped them out of sequence for a waltz, even by the loosest definition of the word. No longer is this a waltz, though it is a coordinated dance nonetheless, and it's morphed into something far more intimate than he'd initially intended. Yet as his arm around her waist holds her steady and he leads her in a slow circle, he can't be bothered to mind. There are so many dances he wants to show her, but if this is to be their last, he'll make it count. ]
It hasn't finished yet, but I'm optimistic! This go 'round, my dance partner is far more interesting. Captivating, actually. I don't know how she does it, I'll have to ask her sometime. She makes sitting still or moving slowly just as interesting as moving about all the time. [ He scrunches up his face a little, as though generally confused and amazed. ] How does she do it, this Vanessa Ives?
[ His Vanessa. He'll allow it, for a moment. He'll allow the thought to pass through his mind, because it's only for his sake and because he already misses her. ]
[ So rarely does she get pleasant surprises, and this is one that strikes her enough that his claim summons a grin, then a laugh with her own momentary nose scrunch. Bashful at first, but the absolute mirth of such a ridiculous statement from a man who has wandered time and space for centuries. She knows he's experienced things that she can't even dream about, and yet she loves him for saying what he does. Vanessa almost believes him.
Slipping closer on the next turn, her hand moves up his arm to settle on his shoulder. Despite the noise beyond trying to assault them through indecipherable chatter and strange music, she manages to follow his steps with ease in their little bubble. ]
Such flattery borders accusation. I am innocent.
[ She's never been, but she can tease. It's only too easy with him. ]
You play the part very well. I might almost believe you.
[ Neither of them are innocent about anything at all, but it's what makes this dance between them - not this one, but the endless one - all the better, in his mind. ]
Do you believe me?
[ It would be difficult to, perhaps. It's not empty flattery for the Doctor. That he says the words to her at all means they are, by their very existence, entirely true. He's careless with words sometimes, yes, but not the ones like this that are ever so important. No, those words are harder to say, they take longer, they're all the more meaningful because of it. Yes, he's seen so many things in his travels, experienced so much. It's difficult for him to explain, then, why this moment between them matters and why it's such a unique experience for him. All of the words he should say right now, all of the words she deserves, elude him, so instead, he's still standing here with her and holding her hand, tightening his hold around her as much as he can, and he hopes that might be enough. ]
[ Almost, she could say, but her laughter subsides into something more of a fascinated silence as the Doctor persists and his grip tightens. Her own grip on his sleeve curls, clinching in sign that he needn't worry about her stepping away any time soon. How can he call her captivating, when his searching gaze has her so bedeviled?
They're moving so slow, perhaps they've even stopped, but it doesn't keep her head from spinning. If a glance falls to his lips while her racing thoughts beg slowness and consideration, she can hardly be blamed, given how close she clutches at him now.
I want to, she could say, because initially that seems the most earnest. But through her self-doubt, something in his assurance can never be ignored. He speaks and she hears him. It's beginning to be all that she hears, even when he isn't there to see or touch. It's why she had decided to believe his almost-promises that night that they had shared deep fears and a slice of banana crème cake. ]
[ Her laughter feels like coming home to a place he's never known before and yet always wanted. It could destroy him and he'd welcome it gladly. Such a beautiful laugh, one he hardly deserves, and yet feels greedy for nonetheless.
That one word, uttered with such conviction, feels like a gift and, strangely, a promise. To each other? To hope? To things beyond knowing right now? Whatever it is, he's not oblivious to how important it is, how meaningful that she's said it.
He dares to move a hand, to brush back a few stray wisps of hair, using the excuse to drag his thumb along her jawline briefly before he leans in to kiss her forehead with reverence and tenderness. His eyes close as his lips linger for the count of five seconds, an intimate duration, and when he pulls back, he smiles softly. ]
I believe you, Vanessa. I believe in you and for you and with you.
[ He gently tugs and guides one of her hands to his shoulder now; an abrupt shift from their tender exchange. ]
Just hold steady to me. I'm dipping you for a moment, you'll love it. I won't let you fall, not ever.
[ It's such a brief thing, a moment of being guided into uncertainty, falling back and trusting your partner to keep you close. He will, of course. He wants her to have that sensation, though, that worry for a moment that she might fall, only to be pulled back by him, his grip never wavering, his promise to her unbroken. ]
[ Having lived her whole life suspended between otherworldly conviction and fearfulness, giving anyone power over her isn't a curiosity to be easily humored. Her convictions and fears have been tested more than ever as of late, and there are times where she can't recognize them or even herself. He now looks at her as though he recognizes her from lifetimes prior, acknowledging that connection with his declaration of belief and understanding. To do so with not only affection in his voice, but an intensity hiding in the undercurrent, and she's she's spinning—falling before he even dips her.
She grips tight, first just at his shoulder with a twist, then both hands dart to clutch around his collar when the world tips to the side with a gentle woosh. Her gasp is silent, and her eyes are wide as he lets her fall back. There's no panic, not really, but for a moment Vanessa feels like if he lets go at this very moment, she might drop through the center of the world. That should frighten her more than it ought to, but if she was to fall into the void, the true fear is that she might do everything in her power to drag him with her.
And so she holds fast, unwilling to give him up even if it risks them both.
The tremor grows into another laugh, even a giggle as she holds him close and stops trying to keep her feet steady, melting into his embrace for the moment he holds her there. She's suspended again—this time between longing and reverence. ]
[ If she needed him to stop at any moment, he would without hesitation. With the trust that they've built thus far between them, he knows she realizes it, too. She need only ask or command him, and he would pull her back in an instant.
There's that sound again, that joyful laugh wrapping around his hearts. It's an all too infrequent sound, made all the more important for that very reason. It would be easy to slow their already slow dance nearly to a halt, to hold her close, but he's not sure what would happen next and he's not prepared for it.
He'd rather make her smile and laugh again, if he can; to pull out all the joy from this moment, wrapping it around them both like a shield against all the pain that feels inevitable in his life. For a moment, they may rest here, suspended between reality and dreams, where nothing terrible can ever touch them again, where he can protect her from everything that would try to take her from him.
His thoughts quickly drift again, though, to less serious things, to being right on the edge of losing a grip on each other, but holding fast as long as they can. ]
The dip, classic, isn't it? We'll do it again, of course. [ He remains, as ever, in a bit of denial. ] But the spin, oh, now that's a treat. But we'll need your other glove off for that.
[ Having learned quickly, he halts their dance abruptly to cradle her other gloved hand, removing it in the same fashion as he did with the other, dropping kisses to her skin. Once he pockets the glove, he cradles both of her hands now, putting only a slight distance between them. There's still a crowd, of course, but it's dispersed more, the performers beginning to quiet. So they have room enough to maneuver, and it feels important to him, to capture every good moment with her that he can before it fades. He wants to spin with her and make her laugh and never let go of her hands. ]
Ready? Again, I promise, I won't let you fall. And I absolutely know what I'm doing, you're in the best of hands.
[ They started with a waltz, with Vanessa leading, and it morphed into a slow dance all their own, and as he feels it winding down, he just needs this one last exhilarating moment, like they might be about to tip over the edge of the world, but yet remain anchored to each other.
If she's ready and willing, still gripping her hands tightly, the Doctor begins to spin in a slow circle with her. ]
[ Each little kiss feels to speed her heart so that it's nothing but a flurry, as all she can do is hold onto him to keep from losing balance. By the time he's tugged off her second glove, Vanessa is already so light-headed that she can't imagine daring to take a spin, but she doesn't stand a chance at saying no. Of course she wouldn't want him to stop, not when he's carrying her through such delights that set the heart to racing and the breath to quicken.
She knows that his mercy can be a thing of beauty, but when he's merciless, the Doctor is stunning. So here she is–stunned–only able to move through this moment with his guidance. ]
Ready.
[ Her hands are small grasped within his, but her grip is deceptively tight as she trusts him enough to begin turning her without letting her topple. She absolutely dare not look away now, knowing that if she does she will end up taking a tumble, and yet she's alight at the idea of becoming even dizzier with him. ]
[ At every turn, she puts her faith in him; even in small moments like this one, where the importance of it might be taken for granted, the Doctor is all too aware of how meaningful it is from her, of all people. She knows he would never let go-she must-but they could stumble, lose their footing, his grip could loosen. Anything at all could happen, but she holds tight to him and he feels the depth and power of her trust settle in his chest.
Though they moved slow to start, he spins them gradually faster, as fast as he dares; not for long, of course, just long enough to feel the pleasant euphoria of uncertain footfalls, of being too unbalanced even for conscious thought. It's a rare thing for the Doctor, for his thoughts to quiet, but the bliss of this moment seems to dampen everything else for him. Truly, it's only them. What a mad and strange thing, to briefly feel like it's only the two of them who exist. He's never had time for those thoughts, either, but his smile never falters. The joy of it even prompts the Doctor to laugh, a staggered, breathless thing.
When he leads her to slowing down again, when he's sure of himself and his own balance, the Doctor carefully enfolds her in his arms now, a gentle and tender hug as he holds her steady. ]
Told you - [ He laughs again, shorter, stunted, still breathless. ] - most memorable dance.
[ The spin isn't as challenging as she had thought, quickly learning to put her faith in his hold, the momentum of the turn, and any natural grace picked up from years of training. The faster they go, the more her chest tightens and so too do her breaths, but even if everything else is a blur beyond, she can still see him as if he were almost standing perfectly still. Almost, if not for the rustle of the breeze through his bangs, and for how his own chest rises and falls more rapidly while they spin until she doesn't know if her feet are still on the ground.
It's overwhelming, but in the best of ways that leaves her breathless and laughing in turn, near collapsed against him when he lulls them to a stop. She's panting, needing a moment's pause to catch her breath, truly unable to think of the last time she let herself twirl around in mirth like that. Not since she was young, when she had spun around to the call of the ocean, with only the night to embrace her. A cold embrace.
Not so now. The Doctor's arms are warm, like his laugh.
Tapping her fingertips lightly against his chest, she flicks playfully at his tie in sudden consideration. ]
Yes, I think so. It must be for the sake of my dance partner. Thrilling, actually. How does he do it, this Doctor mine?
Doctor mine. Yours, I mean, not mine. Well, what do I mean. Is that a sort of...it's new. Oh, you know that, of course, why am I clarifying? Doctor mine! Yes. Brilliant.
[ He's still a little breathless and it's entirely possible there's a faint, nearly indiscernible flush to his cheeks. Though, he would deny it. It's simply a trick of the light! Nothing more than that. Nothing at all to do with Vanessa flicking his tie, standing close to him, fondly claiming him with two words wielded so effortlessly. ]
How does he do it, you ask? This madman with a cool bow tie. [ His fingers lightly brush against hers just for a moment. ] Like most things, I suppose, you only need the proper inspiration. [ The inspiration being his own Vanessa Ives. ] Well, inspiration and Jammie Dodgers. Those are biscuits with a strawberry jam filling. I run on about ninety percent sugar, in fact.
[ Not that rambling is unusual for him, but in this instance, it's a bit more nonsensical than usual, his thoughts askew because he's happy in a way he hadn't thought possible for so very long. ]
Speaking of - are you hungry? Or should I take you 'round to the shops? I have a bit saved up.
[ He has no need of money for his personal gain here. What he's earned so far has been saved, to help the people of this world, but also for the sake of those around him. Like now. ]
[ As he rambles on, manic to the point that it captivates her, Vanessa could imagine leaning up to tenderly silence him while still in his arms; it's an easy thought. But she watches with her smile pinched from restraining a strange glee, and thinks that even if it were an option to leave him stricken and then lulled, she would always choose to let him finish speaking. He talks of something like biscuits and she wants to hear more of it.
There's doubt that berries are in season, but this is an alien world. Anything is possible. Given that she shares a sweet tooth, it's an earnest desire to want to try all of his favorite desserts. Perhaps they will happen upon something that strikes his fancy, but she doesn't wish to rush to the matter. She's already breakfasted, and after the literal whirlwind she only just endured at the start of what promises to be a long (lovely) day, Vanessa's rather glad that she didn't partake in too much of the honeyed bread that Oliver had been insisting upon while she dressed. Her stomach can't quite bear the thought of any more, not yet.
Though, she is curious if they can find something completely unlike what she's ever tasted before. ]
Mm, perhaps we can sample something of their exotic delights later on.
[ Shopping, then? She can afford her own trinkets, but she understands well that isn't the point of it. Do Time Lords bother with fiscal pride? She isn't in a hurry to test it, but she decides now she won't let him purchase anything extravagent. She'd much rather find something for him if they're to enjoy the markets. She may be a fool to think that some novelty from a shop could carry on the memory of her, but today is a day for hope, isn't it? If she does decide on something, she can find a moment while he's distracted or return later for her purchase. ]
You're underdressed, did you know?
[ Stretching her hand up, she brushes back his bangs with the gentlest touch. She's quite fond of how he looks with his hair askew and his eyes a bit wild and a flush to his skin—no doubt from the rush of the dance and the chill in the air—but this is public and she would rather keep such sights for her own pleasure. ]
[ In so many ways, this conversation and the moment they're sharing now amongst the lively crowd patronizing the myriad of vendors, could be an ordinary day spent with one of his many traveling companions as they visited a new world. It could be like that, but it isn't and he knows it. She brushes his hair back with the tenderness of a dear friend, but her eyes and her smile seem to hold the promise of more than friendship. He can't say what, exactly, he can't dare himself to even believe it, but he thinks it mirrors his own confusing jumble of feelings. And that, of course, is the sharp difference between this time they have together now, and every other adventure he's ever shared. He's never felt anything quite like this, not in a very, very long time.
He hasn't acknowledged what this is, exactly, though he suspects he already knows and refuses to give it power yet. The moment he does, he's lost to all the pain that comes with it. For now, he only wants to dance with her and hold her hand. ]
Oh, a hat! Won't turn that down, not a chance. Food can wait.
[ She doesn't yet know of his fondness for hats in their many forms, but she seems to have an unspoken understanding nonetheless. A subtle way to be known, but meaningful in his eyes. He looks forward to sampling various sweets with her eventually, wanting to know as many details about her as he possibly can. It's such a strong need and one which can't be denied.
As though it's the most natural thing in the world, the Doctor reaches for her hand now, lacing their fingers together before they set off through the market. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
There's usually never time for talking like this with anyone in his travels, but even if there was, he wouldn't have felt close enough to even consider it. Not for any lack of love or fondness, it's only that sharing such vulnerabilities is a rarer thing for the Doctor.
As she speaks and he keeps hold of her gloved hand, he thinks about asking to take off just one of her gloves briefly, wanting to feel the touch of her skin. He will. In a moment. ]
My first dance, the first ever, was unremarkable honestly. Bit of a letdown, you know, all the build up of it and the music was off-kilter, the company was middling at best. A good friend, he was, but a terrible dancer. I think I fell over more than we managed to dance! But I do quite vividly recall the most memorable dance I've ever shared with anyone.
[ And why? Because the most memorable is the dance they're sharing now. Will he tell her that, though?
Instead, he smiles at her and decides to get bold. ]
This glove just won't do. Let me hold your hand, for a moment? I mean, really hold it. I am holding it, I realize, by the strictest definition of the term, but - you know what I mean.
[ Though, he wouldn't push her if it's too much. He thinks she knows that by now, too. ]
no subject
She likes the Doctor's height. He's tall enough to envelop her with an embrace should he wish to, but not so high up that it's an imposition. It's just so that when they dance, the tilt of her head and curve of her neck feels natural, and she barely notices that the rest of the world has been skewed off-kilter beyond his singular presence.
Although she's eager to hear more about his most memorable dance, of which she is imagining must have taken place on a far away world with alien beauty, his sudden focus on her glove softens her smile to something different. Her steps slow, and with consideration, she'll glance to her hand.
Of course she knows it, but his hesitancy is still being disciplined. ]
If you want to take my hand...
[ Her already gentle grip on his hand lightens yet more, her thumb teasing against the lining of his palm. So much gentler than the glint in her eye. Is she to remove her glove for him, when it's his spoken desire? If it's what he wants, then he shouldn't waste time asking. ]
...then take it.
no subject
He won't waste time now, though he debates ripping it off or tugging it slowly. Moving slow throws them further out of step for their dance, but he's focused and intent on something else now. There's pleasure to be found in conquering quickly, yet as he's been learning here, it's sometimes far more rewarding to take things a bit slower. So he pulls at her glove, revealing her wrist, which he kisses softly. Only a half second more and the glove is off, with another kiss pressed to her palm. Her glove is tucked into his pocket as an after-thought, and then he presses his palm to hers before lacing their fingers together. ]
You won't be needing that glove back anytime soon. This is much better.
[ He couldn't be bothered to consider anyone else around them now. If asked, he would quite earnestly insist there must not be a crowd at all. It's only Vanessa, after all. She's all that he sees, in any case. Tugging her just slightly closer, he looks down at their feet briefly, then back up to her, clumsily guiding them back into a rhythm. ]
no subject
Earlier he had not been bold enough, and now his boldness dares to draw attention. At least, it would garner glances on the plaza outside Grandage Place. He's never touched her so in public before, but nobody seems to be paying them any mind, so long as they remain out of people's way. This isn't Grandage Place, or anywhere in London. Whether or not they save these people, she'll never see them again. She'll never see him again. It's enough to let her indulge in such an intimate moment, with her pulse racing so fast that it's a hum in her ears. She can hear his voice through the drone of it, and that's all she cares to pay any attention to. The crowd is easily forgotten as she leans into his pull.
The twining of their fingers isn't standard for the dance, but she isn't to correct it, only gripping at his arm with her other hand a bit more tightly in turn. She had begun the dance, but here she's wanting for him to take the lead, for how dizzy such a simple touch has made her. Well, far more than the touch.
When she speaks, it's with a breathless start, as if just remembering now what he had been talking of earlier. Perhaps a distraction regarding his fantastical journeys will guide her back to her own reality. ]
And your most memorable dance?
no subject
What happens for them after this? Is it only an ending, or does a different beginning await them somewhere else, in a place far beyond where they stand together now?
It occurs to him belatedly that he's stepped them out of sequence for a waltz, even by the loosest definition of the word. No longer is this a waltz, though it is a coordinated dance nonetheless, and it's morphed into something far more intimate than he'd initially intended. Yet as his arm around her waist holds her steady and he leads her in a slow circle, he can't be bothered to mind. There are so many dances he wants to show her, but if this is to be their last, he'll make it count. ]
It hasn't finished yet, but I'm optimistic! This go 'round, my dance partner is far more interesting. Captivating, actually. I don't know how she does it, I'll have to ask her sometime. She makes sitting still or moving slowly just as interesting as moving about all the time. [ He scrunches up his face a little, as though generally confused and amazed. ] How does she do it, this Vanessa Ives?
[ His Vanessa. He'll allow it, for a moment. He'll allow the thought to pass through his mind, because it's only for his sake and because he already misses her. ]
no subject
Slipping closer on the next turn, her hand moves up his arm to settle on his shoulder. Despite the noise beyond trying to assault them through indecipherable chatter and strange music, she manages to follow his steps with ease in their little bubble. ]
Such flattery borders accusation. I am innocent.
[ She's never been, but she can tease. It's only too easy with him. ]
Perhaps Wonderland has cast a spell.
no subject
[ Neither of them are innocent about anything at all, but it's what makes this dance between them - not this one, but the endless one - all the better, in his mind. ]
Do you believe me?
[ It would be difficult to, perhaps. It's not empty flattery for the Doctor. That he says the words to her at all means they are, by their very existence, entirely true. He's careless with words sometimes, yes, but not the ones like this that are ever so important. No, those words are harder to say, they take longer, they're all the more meaningful because of it. Yes, he's seen so many things in his travels, experienced so much. It's difficult for him to explain, then, why this moment between them matters and why it's such a unique experience for him. All of the words he should say right now, all of the words she deserves, elude him, so instead, he's still standing here with her and holding her hand, tightening his hold around her as much as he can, and he hopes that might be enough. ]
no subject
They're moving so slow, perhaps they've even stopped, but it doesn't keep her head from spinning. If a glance falls to his lips while her racing thoughts beg slowness and consideration, she can hardly be blamed, given how close she clutches at him now.
I want to, she could say, because initially that seems the most earnest. But through her self-doubt, something in his assurance can never be ignored. He speaks and she hears him. It's beginning to be all that she hears, even when he isn't there to see or touch. It's why she had decided to believe his almost-promises that night that they had shared deep fears and a slice of banana crème cake. ]
Yes.
no subject
That one word, uttered with such conviction, feels like a gift and, strangely, a promise. To each other? To hope? To things beyond knowing right now? Whatever it is, he's not oblivious to how important it is, how meaningful that she's said it.
He dares to move a hand, to brush back a few stray wisps of hair, using the excuse to drag his thumb along her jawline briefly before he leans in to kiss her forehead with reverence and tenderness. His eyes close as his lips linger for the count of five seconds, an intimate duration, and when he pulls back, he smiles softly. ]
I believe you, Vanessa. I believe in you and for you and with you.
[ He gently tugs and guides one of her hands to his shoulder now; an abrupt shift from their tender exchange. ]
Just hold steady to me. I'm dipping you for a moment, you'll love it. I won't let you fall, not ever.
[ It's such a brief thing, a moment of being guided into uncertainty, falling back and trusting your partner to keep you close. He will, of course. He wants her to have that sensation, though, that worry for a moment that she might fall, only to be pulled back by him, his grip never wavering, his promise to her unbroken. ]
no subject
She grips tight, first just at his shoulder with a twist, then both hands dart to clutch around his collar when the world tips to the side with a gentle woosh. Her gasp is silent, and her eyes are wide as he lets her fall back. There's no panic, not really, but for a moment Vanessa feels like if he lets go at this very moment, she might drop through the center of the world. That should frighten her more than it ought to, but if she was to fall into the void, the true fear is that she might do everything in her power to drag him with her.
And so she holds fast, unwilling to give him up even if it risks them both.
The tremor grows into another laugh, even a giggle as she holds him close and stops trying to keep her feet steady, melting into his embrace for the moment he holds her there. She's suspended again—this time between longing and reverence. ]
no subject
There's that sound again, that joyful laugh wrapping around his hearts. It's an all too infrequent sound, made all the more important for that very reason. It would be easy to slow their already slow dance nearly to a halt, to hold her close, but he's not sure what would happen next and he's not prepared for it.
He'd rather make her smile and laugh again, if he can; to pull out all the joy from this moment, wrapping it around them both like a shield against all the pain that feels inevitable in his life. For a moment, they may rest here, suspended between reality and dreams, where nothing terrible can ever touch them again, where he can protect her from everything that would try to take her from him.
His thoughts quickly drift again, though, to less serious things, to being right on the edge of losing a grip on each other, but holding fast as long as they can. ]
The dip, classic, isn't it? We'll do it again, of course. [ He remains, as ever, in a bit of denial. ] But the spin, oh, now that's a treat. But we'll need your other glove off for that.
[ Having learned quickly, he halts their dance abruptly to cradle her other gloved hand, removing it in the same fashion as he did with the other, dropping kisses to her skin. Once he pockets the glove, he cradles both of her hands now, putting only a slight distance between them. There's still a crowd, of course, but it's dispersed more, the performers beginning to quiet. So they have room enough to maneuver, and it feels important to him, to capture every good moment with her that he can before it fades. He wants to spin with her and make her laugh and never let go of her hands. ]
Ready? Again, I promise, I won't let you fall. And I absolutely know what I'm doing, you're in the best of hands.
[ They started with a waltz, with Vanessa leading, and it morphed into a slow dance all their own, and as he feels it winding down, he just needs this one last exhilarating moment, like they might be about to tip over the edge of the world, but yet remain anchored to each other.
If she's ready and willing, still gripping her hands tightly, the Doctor begins to spin in a slow circle with her. ]
no subject
She knows that his mercy can be a thing of beauty, but when he's merciless, the Doctor is stunning. So here she is–stunned–only able to move through this moment with his guidance. ]
Ready.
[ Her hands are small grasped within his, but her grip is deceptively tight as she trusts him enough to begin turning her without letting her topple. She absolutely dare not look away now, knowing that if she does she will end up taking a tumble, and yet she's alight at the idea of becoming even dizzier with him. ]
no subject
Though they moved slow to start, he spins them gradually faster, as fast as he dares; not for long, of course, just long enough to feel the pleasant euphoria of uncertain footfalls, of being too unbalanced even for conscious thought. It's a rare thing for the Doctor, for his thoughts to quiet, but the bliss of this moment seems to dampen everything else for him. Truly, it's only them. What a mad and strange thing, to briefly feel like it's only the two of them who exist. He's never had time for those thoughts, either, but his smile never falters. The joy of it even prompts the Doctor to laugh, a staggered, breathless thing.
When he leads her to slowing down again, when he's sure of himself and his own balance, the Doctor carefully enfolds her in his arms now, a gentle and tender hug as he holds her steady. ]
Told you - [ He laughs again, shorter, stunted, still breathless. ] - most memorable dance.
no subject
It's overwhelming, but in the best of ways that leaves her breathless and laughing in turn, near collapsed against him when he lulls them to a stop. She's panting, needing a moment's pause to catch her breath, truly unable to think of the last time she let herself twirl around in mirth like that. Not since she was young, when she had spun around to the call of the ocean, with only the night to embrace her. A cold embrace.
Not so now. The Doctor's arms are warm, like his laugh.
Tapping her fingertips lightly against his chest, she flicks playfully at his tie in sudden consideration. ]
Yes, I think so. It must be for the sake of my dance partner. Thrilling, actually. How does he do it, this Doctor mine?
no subject
[ He's still a little breathless and it's entirely possible there's a faint, nearly indiscernible flush to his cheeks. Though, he would deny it. It's simply a trick of the light! Nothing more than that. Nothing at all to do with Vanessa flicking his tie, standing close to him, fondly claiming him with two words wielded so effortlessly. ]
How does he do it, you ask? This madman with a cool bow tie. [ His fingers lightly brush against hers just for a moment. ] Like most things, I suppose, you only need the proper inspiration. [ The inspiration being his own Vanessa Ives. ] Well, inspiration and Jammie Dodgers. Those are biscuits with a strawberry jam filling. I run on about ninety percent sugar, in fact.
[ Not that rambling is unusual for him, but in this instance, it's a bit more nonsensical than usual, his thoughts askew because he's happy in a way he hadn't thought possible for so very long. ]
Speaking of - are you hungry? Or should I take you 'round to the shops? I have a bit saved up.
[ He has no need of money for his personal gain here. What he's earned so far has been saved, to help the people of this world, but also for the sake of those around him. Like now. ]
no subject
There's doubt that berries are in season, but this is an alien world. Anything is possible. Given that she shares a sweet tooth, it's an earnest desire to want to try all of his favorite desserts. Perhaps they will happen upon something that strikes his fancy, but she doesn't wish to rush to the matter. She's already breakfasted, and after the literal whirlwind she only just endured at the start of what promises to be a long (lovely) day, Vanessa's rather glad that she didn't partake in too much of the honeyed bread that Oliver had been insisting upon while she dressed. Her stomach can't quite bear the thought of any more, not yet.
Though, she is curious if they can find something completely unlike what she's ever tasted before. ]
Mm, perhaps we can sample something of their exotic delights later on.
[ Shopping, then? She can afford her own trinkets, but she understands well that isn't the point of it. Do Time Lords bother with fiscal pride? She isn't in a hurry to test it, but she decides now she won't let him purchase anything extravagent. She'd much rather find something for him if they're to enjoy the markets. She may be a fool to think that some novelty from a shop could carry on the memory of her, but today is a day for hope, isn't it? If she does decide on something, she can find a moment while he's distracted or return later for her purchase. ]
You're underdressed, did you know?
[ Stretching her hand up, she brushes back his bangs with the gentlest touch. She's quite fond of how he looks with his hair askew and his eyes a bit wild and a flush to his skin—no doubt from the rush of the dance and the chill in the air—but this is public and she would rather keep such sights for her own pleasure. ]
Let us find you a hat.
no subject
He hasn't acknowledged what this is, exactly, though he suspects he already knows and refuses to give it power yet. The moment he does, he's lost to all the pain that comes with it. For now, he only wants to dance with her and hold her hand. ]
Oh, a hat! Won't turn that down, not a chance. Food can wait.
[ She doesn't yet know of his fondness for hats in their many forms, but she seems to have an unspoken understanding nonetheless. A subtle way to be known, but meaningful in his eyes. He looks forward to sampling various sweets with her eventually, wanting to know as many details about her as he possibly can. It's such a strong need and one which can't be denied.
As though it's the most natural thing in the world, the Doctor reaches for her hand now, lacing their fingers together before they set off through the market. ]