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clara-licht · 3 years

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You Belong With Me

Part of Best of Me Series

Summary: 5 times (Y/n) Stark felt jealous and 1 time it was Peter’s turn. (set before Just Out of Touch, can be read as a standalone)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning: mention of blood and maggots

Note: after a whole year, it’s finally here! Here’s another story set in the world of Just Out of Touch! This story can be read as a standalone, but reading JOOT might give you a bit more context. But if you haven’t read it, spoiler for JOOT, Hecate is (y/n)’s vigilante persona. (Y/n)’s pronouns are she/they, where they is specifically used when they’re out as Hecate. Since this story focuses on (y/n) and not Hecate, I used she/her throughout the story. In future stories both she and they will be used when there are both (y/n) and Hecate. Without further ado, enjoy the story!

Title Inspo: Taylor Swift - You Belong With Me

Best of Me Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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1: Compliment

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(Y/n) side-glanced at Peter who was pacing back and forth in her room. She let him mumble and curse at himself while she laid on her bed, bored.

"Oh I'm so stupid! How could I have done that?! Ugh, she must hate me now!"

She rolled her eyes. "You're not stupid, Pete. You're in STEM school by scholarship for a reason, you know."

Peter stopped his pacing to look at (y/n) with his big doe eyes and panicked expression. "That's got nothing to do with this!" He exclaimed.

Rolling her eyes again, she asked, "What did you do again?"

He groaned and banged his head on her bed, mumbling something.

"What?"

"I complimented her skirt."

If she had to roll her eyes again, her eyeballs would probably be stuck that way.

"What's so bad about that?" She asked.

Peter didn't even lift his head from the soft duvet. "I sounded like a pervert, (y/n)!" He groaned. "She totally knew I've been checking her out the entire year!"

(Y/n) shook her head exasperatedly. "You couldn't have known that. You just complimented one piece of clothing, Peter. She wouldn't know you've been staring at her clothes every day."

Peter only let out another groan and turned over, pulling the duvet to cover his face. "No, she definitely knows!"

"What did you say, exactly?"

"I said the color suits her and asked if it's new…"

"…So?"

He removed the duvet and stared incredulously at her. "What do you mean, so?"

(Y/n) shrugged. "I don't see what's so bad about that. I mean, it's flattering?"

"Oh, you don't get it!" Peter threw his head back. "I asked if it's new! Meaning that I already know her clothes and noticed that I've never seen that skirt before!"

"Now that you said it like that, you do sound like a pervert."

"UGH!"

Chuckling, (y/n) lifted the duvet and removed it from Peter, eyes glowing soft blue. "Calm down, Spidey. What did she say?"

"I don't know. I ran away afterwards."

Her chuckle turned into a full-on laugh as Peter turned away with a pout, hoping to hide his flaming face.

In between her laugh, she shuffled closer to the boy and ran her fingers gently between his hair. "Well, if it was me, I wouldn't think much about it. I would just be flattered that you think a skirt looks good on me."

Still pouting, Peter mumbled, "But it's not you."

Her laughter ceased, replaced with a slightly sorrowful smile.

"But it's not me." She agreed.

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2: Jokes

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"What's taking him so long?" Happy grumbled.

"It's only been 10 minutes."

"10 minutes too long!"

(Y/n) only hummed and looked out the window. “It’s high school, Happy. It’s where he socializes with his friends, of course it’s going to take time.”

“Not if I can help it.” He muttered.

Shaking her head fondly, her eyes swept through the entrance of Midtown High, trying to see if the young vigilante was anywhere near them. Today was a scheduled lab day and she volunteered to pick him up with Happy. Since she already finished any lessons she had for the day Tony had let her go.

As she kept watch, she couldn’t help but feel a little bittersweet. Sure, she enjoyed her studies online, but she knew that she was missing that typical high school experience. Going to classes, eating lunch in the cafeteria, walking home with friends… But she was also aware that it was all for her safety.

The woes of having a famous father.

(Y/n) was shaken off her thoughts when she finally noticed Ned among the students in front of the school. If Ned was there, then Peter was surely not far.

Sure enough, she could spot a familiar tuft of brown hair right behind Ned.

And apparently he wasn’t alone.

Peter was talking with a girl facing his way. (Y/n) couldn’t see her face but she had a good idea of who she was.

Peter had a shy smile on his lips and his cheeks were nearly blossoming, if (y/n) could say so. In true Peter fashion, he seemed to be stumbling upon his words and spoke a mile per minute. The girl seems as though she didn’t mind as she was laughing along. And yet, unlike the oblivious Peter she was used to, this Peter looked at the girl as if she was a goddess sent to the earth to absolve every sinner from their fated doom. This Peter smiled at her as if she handpicked each star to light up the darkest night.

His darkest night.

(Y/n) unconsciously took a sharp breath when she saw the girl laughing so hard she had to hold onto Peter to stabilize herself. The way she clutched Peter’s arm and the color on Peter’s cheeks…

“There he is! Call him, tell him to hurry up.”

“Just… Just give him a minute, will you, Happy?” She mumbled, eyes never leaving Peter. She was unaware of Happy glancing at her with a frown on his forehead. Like her, he did notice that Peter had a girl with him. He just hadn’t yet connected it to why (y/n) looked off.

As (y/n) sat there looking at the window, the tight feeling in her chest kept getting more painful as time went. On one hand, she would love to get out of the car and go to him, replacing the girl’s position beside Peter. But on the other hand, she knew that things didn’t work that way.

‘He’s happy, that’s all that matters, right?’

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Peter already saying his goodbyes and approaching the car. It was only when Peter sat beside her that she was shaken off her trails.

“Hey, you good?” He asked.

(Y/n) smiled, a hint of sorrow that Peter didn’t notice on her lips.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

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3: Flirt

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The silence was quite awkward, if (y/n) must say.

Tony was out on a conference of some sort in Japan, and as much as (y/n) would love to visit the country, her father couldn’t literally pay her to sit through that conference with him. While she would inherit the company one day, she’d avoid any stuffy meetings if she could.

That day was another scheduled lab day for Peter, though. Tony had forgotten to tell him to reschedule, so he still went to the tower. Peter was going to leave until (y/n) called Tony and he told Peter to just mess around in the lab.

And there they were. In Tony Stark’s personal lab. Just the two of them (along with Dum-E).

(Y/n) could tell something was off with Peter. The first sign was when he said he would go home when he heard Tony wasn’t there. Usually he’d just stay and watch a movie with her. And now he was all quiet while fiddling with his webshooters.

Of course, one could say that perhaps he was focused on fixing or upgrading it, but (y/n) knew that there was nothing wrong with his webshooters and they already installed the upgrade a couple weeks ago. They hadn’t come up with new ideas since then.

“Hey, Pete?”

“Hm?” He didn’t even look up.

“Is there anything in your mind?”

“Huh? No, nothing.” Peter mumbled, still fiddling with his webshooters.

(Y/n) frowned. Something was not right, indeed.

A few minutes passed with silence between them. (Y/n) kept sneaking glances at Peter and Peter kept toying around with the shooters on his wrist. He wasn’t even doing anything. His eyes were unfocused and he was deep in thoughts.

Heaving a sigh, (y/n) removed the goggles she had on. She was doing a project for SI, but it could wait.

“Okay, let’s talk about this,” she said.

Peter finally looked up and stared at her, confused. “Talk about what?”

“Well, this,” she said again, gesturing at Peter.

“...you’re gesturing at all of me.”

“Of course I’m gesturing at all of you! You’re acting weird!”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are! You’re so quiet and you kept playing with your webshooters! Is there something wrong with them or what? You look like you’re thinking so hard and we both know you’re smart enough to not have to think that hard about your shooters!”

Peter didn’t say anything for a while as he stared at (y/n), eyes slightly furrowed.

“Well?” (Y/n) prompted. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Peter sighed and bit his lip. He looked up, as if pondering whether or not he should tell (y/n) about what was on his mind.

“It’s, uh, it’s about Liz.”

(Y/n) heart dropped.

“W-What about her?” She asked, feigning ignorance.

The frown made another appearance on Peter’s forehead. His fingers returned to the webshooter strapped on his wrist and started fiddling again. It was then that (y/n) noticed that this was his way of fidgeting. He used to fiddle with his fingers and then it was with his shooters.

“Well, I saw her today…”

“...and?”

“She, um…” Peter swallowed. “She was, uh, flirting, I think? With Flash.”

By some miracle, instead of feeling that tightness in her chest from the mention of her, she felt truly confused. “Flash? The same Flash that picks on you and doesn't believe in your internship?”

“Uh, yeah…?”

“Why would she? Doesn’t she know what kind of person he is?”

Peter laughed dryly. “He’s rich, (y/n).”

“And so am I, what about it?” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow. “I’m not as obnoxious as that guy, am I?”

“Of course not. You may be getting a big head, though.” He teased with a grin.

(Y/n) only swatted at his arm.

(It took every single will in her not to make a dirty joke then and there, telling herself it wasn’t appropriate for the topic.)

“Anyway! Why did you think she was flirting with him?” (Y/n) asked, ignoring the tight feeling that finally arrived despite the miracle earlier.

“Remember last week? When you picked me up with Happy?”

(Y/n) nodded. ‘How could I not?’ She thought bitterly.

“I don’t know if you saw, but uhh we were flirting, I think?”

“You think?”

“Well, Ned said we were…” Peter mumbled. “We were joking around and she kinda laughed so hard she had to hold onto me…” He recounted, a blush starting to make its way on his cheeks.

(Y/n) took a deep breath to try and calm her erratic heart. Her heart felt like it was sinking with each word coming out of Peter’s mouth. Had she not been a strong-willed young woman with experience in keeping her face neutral, she was 100% sure her eyes would be all watery by now. Not that she didn’t feel the burn on her eyes as she pretended not to hear Peter whispering ‘her hand was so soft’.

“And was she doing the same with Flash?” She asked, and again, by miracle, her voice didn’t crack.

Peter’s hand fell from his wrist and he nodded dejectedly.

“I thought she liked me, you know?” He muttered. Unlike her, Peter was an open book. He was never good at hiding his expression that it was a wonder that his secret identity was still intact. (Y/n) could clearly hear the pain in his voice.

It honestly infuriated her how easy it was for him to affect her.

(Y/n) cleared her throat. “Don’t take it to heart, Pete. Maybe she was just being friendly with him.”

“Or maybe she was just being friendly with me.” Peter mumbled, still dejected.

It filled her heart with grief that he could make such a pained expression in front of her. Had it been her, she could say with certainty that she would never let this boy in front of her go without a smile. But then again, who was she to do that? It wasn’t her that he wanted to put that smile on him.

And so, with a heavy heart and a smile hiding sorrow behind it, she told him, “Why don’t you ask her to do something with you? Like a date?”

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4: Date

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“(Y/n)? Where’s Peter?” Pepper immediately asked when she saw (y/n) lounging alone on the couch.

(Y/n) shrugged half-heartedly, shoving a spoonful of her favorite cookies and cream ice cream to her mouth. An older season of CSI: Miami was playing on the screen in front of her. She kept eating her ice cream unbothered as the screen showed a bloody corpse full of maggots. Oh, apparently it wasn’t a corpse and she was still alive. Who would’ve thought?

“Don’t you guys usually spend Sundays together?” Pepper asked again.

(Y/n) mumbled something that Pepper couldn’t hear.

“Sorry, what?”

“He has a date.”

Pepper blinked once. “A date?”

(Y/n) nodded.

“With… who?”

“...a girl from his school. An upperclassman.”

“Huh… Is that so?” Pepper hummed, taking a seat beside the young Stark.

She glanced at the angsty teen, still enjoying her ice cream accompanied by a pool of blood and maggot and David Caruso on the screen. “How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean? I’m totally fine.” (Y/n) answered through a mouthful of sugary dairy.

“I don’t think so, honey.” Pepper smiled at her, taking the tub away.

(Y/n) didn’t bother to answer, stubbornly keeping her eyes on the screen.

“I always thought both of you would end up together. What happened?” Pepper tried to ask.

“Us ending up together, huh?” (Y/n) chuckled dryly. “Not a chance, Pep.”

“Why do you say that?”

(Y/n) turned to the CEO of the company that one day would be hers. “Have you looked at Peter? Really looked at him?” She asked. “Because if you have, then you’d know that his eyes were never on me. Not once.”

Sighing, she reached to take back the tub of ice cream from Pepper. “A friend is all I am to him.” She muttered.

(Y/n) was perfectly fine with returning to her angsty mood accompanied by ice cream and crime lab, but apparently Pepper was not.

Pepper stood up and asked FRIDAY to turn the screen off.

“Aw, Pep! Why did you do that!” (Y/n) whined, not unlike a child getting her toy taken away.

“No wallowing in self pity, young lady. Now up you go! We’re going out.”

She groaned and plopped her face on the couch.

To say she would regret going out would be an understatement.

Because an hour on her outing with Pepper, she actually saw Peter on his date.

He was wearing a shirt and grey sweater, like how he wore to school, though the collar was neat. He definitely combed and gelled his hair. She didn’t like it, to be honest. (Y/n) always loved his curls that would fall to his eyes when it got a bit too long. She loved the soft unruly strands that felt silky when she ran her fingers through them.

Peter and his date, Liz, were in a cafe together. It was a cute and aesthetically pleasing one too. (Y/n) was in the Italian restaurant right across the street. Pepper sat with her back to the glass window, so she couldn’t see them, but it was as clear as the sky for (y/n).

And (y/n) wanted to look away, she really did. Yet for some reason, she just couldn’t stop staring at the happy couple. She watched as Liz reached a hand out to wipe something off the corner of Peter’s lips. She watched as Peter laughed shyly. She watched as he hesitantly tried to hold Liz’s hand on the table. She watched as Liz grinned and took his hand in hers.

She watched as they smiled at each other like they were the only people in the world and she was nothing but a speck of dust.

She watched, with bitter heart and a sorrowful smile as she told herself, as long as he’s happy, right?

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5: Broken Heart

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How could this have happened?

They were having such a great time together!

So why...?

“Peter, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s not your fault, why are you sorry?”

“I was the one who pushed you to ask her on a date…”

Peter chuckled. He tried to look unbothered, but he was still so easy to read. (Y/n) could basically hear the pieces of his broken heart rattling around as he moved.

It hurt her more than seeing him with her.

“Well, you couldn’t have known everything, (y/n),” Peter said. “Besides, at least I tried, you know?”

(Y/n) bit her lip.

Logically, she should be happy, shouldn’t she? Liz had told Peter that she wanted to remain friends, that she couldn’t be with him. That meant Peter was free for the whole world. Whether or not she had a chance was something else entirely. And yet, she felt extremely guilty.

“I’m okay, really!” Peter grinned with a fake cheerfulness. “I had a great time and I appreciate her telling me the truth instead of leading me on. I’m sure we’ll remain great friends even after this.”

‘But you were never great friends with her…’

“I guess she’s just trying to focus on her studies, you know? Since she’s a senior and all.”

‘But she did lead you on…’

“And you know what they say, there are plenty more fish in the sea!”

‘But you were so fixated on her…’

Peter’s eyes softened when he realized how quiet (y/n) was. “I’m really alright, (y/n). It’s not your fault at all.”

“Besides,” he grinned, this time genuine, “Maybe now it’s my turn to help you find someone! Your help was greatly appreciated and now I can return the favor!”

(Y/n) refrained from smiling sardonically at the irony. The only way he could help her find someone was if he magically fell in love with her, but she knew better than to be wishful like that.

“Thank you, Pete, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Whaaaaat why? I can give great love advice!”

“Yeah? Like what?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Uhh…”

“Exactly.”

“Anyway! When you find someone, tell me, okay? I’ll try my best to help you, since you were so helpful to me.”

Helpful, huh?

Why can’t you see it?

How badly I want to say those words?

Instead, (Y/n) smiled, sorrow seeping into her being. “It was my pleasure.”

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+1: Reverse

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arachnophobia: wanna go out tonight? hecate hasnt been out for a while

ironlady: cant today

ironlady: harley’s coming

arachnophobia: harley? the one whose garage mr stark broke into?

ironlady: yep!! cant wait to see him

ironady: its been a while

arachnophobia: can i meet him?

ironlady: ofc just come here

The moment Peter stepped out from the elevator, he could hear the laughter already. He didn’t need his enhanced hearing to know that (y/n) was positively joyful.

He followed the sound to the penthouse’s living room where he could see (y/n) sitting on the couch. Beside her was a young man his age with sandy blonde hair. Both of them were talking animatedly with each other.

“Hey.”

“Oh, Peter!” (Y/n) turned around, a big grin on her face. “This is Harley Keener, the potato boy dad and I told you about!”

“Potato boy?” Harley frowned.

“It’s either that or problem child 1, which one do you prefer?”

“Tony’s been calling me that?”

“Yep!”

“And what are you?”

“Problem child 2, duh.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

Harley scoffed. “Yeah, right, il mio tarassaco.”

“Hey! Only dad can call me that!”

“I know, I know, don’t get your panties in a twist, Princess Stark.” Harley laughed as he ruffled (y/n)’s hair, much to her chagrin.

Peter couldn’t get one word out. He watched as (y/n) tried to get back at Harley and mess with his hair as Harley dodged her. He watched as (y/n)’s face was overtaken by a huge grin and her eyes lighted up in joy.

“Harley stop it!”

“You started it!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!”

“No I- you know what, I’m not doing this. You haven’t even greeted Peter!” (Y/n) huffed, gesturing at Peter who was still standing still behind the sofa.

“Oh, yeah, my bad,” Harley said. He stood up and dusted his pants, then reached out a hand.

“Harley Keener, at your service,” he grinned.

Peter took his hand hesitantly. “Peter Parker. Nice to meet you.”

(Y/n) beamed at the two of them. “I’ve told him so much about you. I think you guys will be great friends!” She told Peter. “Dad is talking about making Harley his intern too, so you two will be Stark Industries first and only high school interns. Tony Stark’s personal interns, to be exact.”

“Wait, intern?” Peter asked, clearly taken aback. “But don’t you live in Tennessee?”

Harley shrugged. “I’m moving here around next month. Not a lot of opportunities back home, so Tony offered to house and send me to school here. I’m here today to look around before the big day.”

“It’s a shame I can’t go to school with you, though.” (Y/n) complained. “I’m getting bored of this whole homeschooling thing.”

“What can I say, Princess Stark,” Harley said with a teasing smile, “a Princess must remain at her castle.”

“Yeah, well, this Princess can take care of herself and goes out at night alone, what about it?” She rolled her eyes.

“Alright, alright, you got a point, Hecate.”

“I told you, I’m not Hecate right now!”

“He knows about Hecate?” Peter asked.

(Y/n) nodded. “He was the first one to know, even before dad. I told you of how Harley’s been coming here for years, right? He basically knows more about me than dad at this point.”

“That, I do.” Harley said, staring at Peter a little too long. Something dawned on him when he saw something on Peter’s face.

He turned to (y/n) and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Anyway, I gotta run and find Tony now, got things to ask him. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, you know where to find me.”

“Great! See ya later, Princess Stark.” Harley dropped a big kiss on her head and left the room, but not before giving Peter a meaningful look.

Peter was frozen on his spot.

In all his time knowing (y/n), not once did he ever see (y/n) that happy. She looked so carefree, as if she trusted Harley blindly and trusted him to keep her that way. It took him some time to get (y/n) to open up to him. He knew that he couldn’t compare himself to Harley who knew (y/n) longer than him, but for some reason it ticked him off.

But why?

And when Harley held (y/n) close to him like that? It felt wrong to Peter. Then he went and actually kissed her! Well, on the head, but still. Something felt off within Peter and he didn’t really know what or why.

Somehow, it was almost like…

Like it should’ve been him?

“Peter, are you okay?”

Peter was startled from his thoughts when (y/n)’s face suddenly entered his peripherals.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?” He quickly said.

(Y/n) hummed. “You look a bit off, that’s all.”

“It’s nothing, I promise.”

“If you say so…”

“So, uh,” Peter started, “that Harley… How long is he staying?”

“A week, I think. He’ll move in next month, on the 15th.” (Y/n) answered. “I can’t wait for next month, honestly. I missed him so much. Him living with me and dad here would be a blast.”

“When do you want to go out?” Peter asked, changing the subject immediately. Somehow, for some reason, he didn’t want to hear (y/n) talk about Harley anymore. Especially not about how he would be living with her.

“Ah, well… Not this week? Maybe after Harley’s back to Tennessee?”

“...oh.”

“You can still go out without me though! I know Spider-Man must be anxious to get out there!”

“...yeah, you’re right. Uh, you know what, I actually forgot I had to run an errand for May, so I’m going to leave now, okay?”

Peter quickly rushed out. The penthouse was getting stuffy for no reason and he couldn’t stand being there anymore.

What is wrong with me?

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Taglist + Mutuals (let me know if you want me to untag you!)

@spn-assemble-seven @racewife2004 @lukesbabylon @serendipitous-amor @sovereign-parker @ifangirlninja @lyzalovealk @lookuptotheskiesandsee @tommysparker @starlight-starks @marvelexi @lou-la-lou @spiderbibby @hello--zuko-here @everydaymj @galaxystern08 @allegra-writes @spideyspeaches @delicatepeterparker @parkerpeter24 @terrifictomholland @quackeroos @angel-spidey @greenorangevioletgrass @awkward-darkness @chloecreatesfictions @tonguetiedholland @peterbenjiparker @and-it-burns-like-a-fire @sinisterspidey @bi-lmg

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #mcu #marvel

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tenroseforeverandever · 4 years

Text

The Perfect Blend - Chapter 4

Characters: Tenth Doctor (aka James Noble); Rose Tyler; Clara Oswald; Amy Pond; Jeanne Poisson; Donna Noble; Sylvia Noble; Wilfred Mott; Mickey Smith; Martha Jones; Clyde Langer

Tags: Human AU; fake relationship AU; coffee shop AU; stalkerish!Reinette; hurt/comfort; angst; romance; fluff; Christmas; New Year; New Year’s kiss

Story Summary:

Trying to escape from an predatory ex-girlfriend who will not accept their break-up, James Noble (aka The Doctor) finds himself in a coffee shop where he meets a barista (aka Rose Tyler) who makes him the perfect cup of tea and lends a sympathetic ear to his tale of woe.

Chapter Summary: In which Mickey feels the need to connect the dots…

Chapter Notes: You’d think, with all this time in social isolation, I’d be more productive! Alas…

Hugs and kisses to the brilliant @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci for looking over this chapter. They kindly did this days ago, and I kept forgetting to post! Oops! LOL

Anyway, hope you enjoy. <3

Read also at: AO3; Tsp (when approved); FF

THE PERFECT BLEND - CHAPTER 4

NEW YEAR’S EVE

James felt cold panic clutch at his throat, stealing his breath. Here it was, late afternoon on New Year’s Eve, and he had yet to secure a date for the gala. He’d had no time to continue his quest today, as he’d spent the entire day at the University, setting up his fireworks display and tinkering with the holographic projectors. Then he’d rushed home to change into his (unlucky) tuxedo. Not that he believed in such superstitious nonsense, but he couldn’t help but notice, nothing good ever came of him wearing that blasted black suit.

On his return trip to the Uni for another quick systems check before guests started to arrive, he’d walked by Pete’s Coffee Dimension and, despite running late, had been drawn inside. He’d been tempted by the thought of a nice, fortifying cup of something hot, maybe even the “best cuppa in London”, and in the back of his mind, had been thinking maybe the pretty barista he had met there on his last visit would be there this time too. He’d been hoping to bask in her quiet compassion, even for just a few minutes before his life turned completely to hell.

But the barista hadn’t been there, sadly, just some bloke, who was pleasant enough, James supposed. He’d told James the barista’s name was Rose (a beautiful name that suited her perfectly!) and had just disappeared behind the counter to prepare him a cuppa, spouting some cryptic, vague assurances that he had the answer to all of James’ problems.

James was not reassured. He ran his hands through his hair and down his face. His heart was thrashing out of his chest. Blimey, he needed that cuppa… If he could only get it down his anxiety-tight throat.

Jeanne would be at the gala tonight, on his arm or not. She had her own ticket, he knew. And she would be relentless (proper predatory-level relentless) when she saw he’d come alone.

Despite his many varied (and increasingly desperate) attempts to do so, he hadn’t been able to find anyone who was suitable (or willing) to be his plus-one for tonight. He couldn’t ask his work colleagues. Most of them were considerably older than he and happily married, and he honestly didn’t think for a minute he’d be able to pull off a convincing act of love with any of those few who didn’t have prior attachments. He’d made some hesitant requests of the students and junior scientists he knew from various labs throughout the Science department, but they either all had plans for the evening (quite right, too!) or had just told him in no uncertain terms that they didn’t want to get involved in his dating debacle (also… quite right, too!)

There had been one graduate student whom he’d been hopeful about. She worked in the lab next to his and was sweet and smart, and he had always gotten along quite well with her. He also knew her to be unattached and, while not the sort to party, thought she would enjoy a festive evening at the gala. But Petronella Osgood had nearly passed out from an anxiety-induced asthma attack the moment he proposed his ruse, and James had spent the evening in the A&E with her as she recovered from the trauma. He decided right then, he wouldn’t press the matter with her any further. He didn’t wish to cause her any more stress, and upon further consideration, decided he would rather suffer the horrors of Jeanne on his own, than subject the poor girl to a potential confrontation with the French woman and her nasty temperament.

With his options rapidly dwindling, he’d even considered paying for an escort, but after some frantic research, he’d discovered that even the semi-reputable ones were ridiculously pricey, and while he would have had no trouble financially, it was a bloody waste of money. Surely Jeanne had already cost him enough. Besides, quite frankly, the idea of using an escort was… weeell… repugnant.

As a last-ditch measure, he’d called on his friend, Jack Harkness, a pan-sexual playboy, and a true friend, through and through. He’d expected Jack to be more than happy to help him stage a fake coming-out, announcing he was gay. Afterall, Jack had been trying to get into James’ pants for years, though not in any serious way. He was a tease, but he understood that James considered him to be a friend only… no benefits of a sexual nature attached. But, as it turned out, Jack had picked this festive season to finally set aside his lecherous ways and settle down. He’d announced to James that he had a new boyfriend, Ianto Jones, with whom he was “exclusive” and had lots of “plans for private New Year celebrations.”

And now… James was out of time. Doomed. And he was spending his last precious moments of a Jeanne-free life, hiding in a coffee shop, like the coward he was, desperate for a cuppa and a glimpse of an absentee barista.

He heaved a great, sad sigh, and taking off his glasses, allowed his head to sink into his hands, despair overcoming him.

“Rose! Rose!” Mickey hissed at her through the pass-through.

Rose rolled her eyes at Martha (who giggled in response) and sighed. “Honestly, Micks, can I not leave you alone for five minutes without something going wrong?” she teased as she approached the opening to the coffee bar. “What’s up?”

“Well, I might not bother to tell you now, since you’re being like that.”

“C’mon, Micks…”

“Oh, alright. I have a customer who’d like one of your cups of tea. Wanna put the kettle on?”

“That’s it? That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“Yup. You know I don’t have the knack you have for making a good cuppa.”

“He’s not wrong,” Martha piped up from behind Rose.

“Oi,” Mickey protested, “I can make a decent cuppa, but as long as Rose is here… Besides, we don’t want the place to get a bad rep from my one substandard cups of tea. Oh, and yeah, it’s for here, so put it in one of the china cups and bring it out when it’s ready, yeah?”

“Bossy!” Rose chided with a grin.

“Someone needs to take charge, otherwise the two of you would be frittering away the time, blathering on about who-knows-what.”

“The nerve! I’ll have you know we’ve completely cleaned the storage room and done inventory, while you’ve made a couple of espresso shots and wiped down a few tables.” Rose turned to Martha. “Are you seriously planning to marry this one?”

Martha’s eyes gleamed. “For better or for worse, that’s what I hear. I guess this is the worse.”

Mickey grumbled at them. “Just hurry and get out here with that cuppa, yeah.” Then he turned and stomped away, out of Rose’s line of sight.

Five minutes later, Rose rushed out from the kitchen, with a hot teapot of Darjeeling, a couple of complimentary biscotti, and a china cup and saucer on a tray. She paused briefly to pick up the milk from the fridge, then raised her head and stepped out from behind the service counter. She stopped short at the sight before her.

It was him. The Doctor.

She twisted around to look behind her, taking in Mickey’s cheeky grin. “I’m gonna kill you,” she mouthed, her cheeks burning.

“Go on,” her friend mouthed back, gesturing her out into the seating area with a sweeping motion of his hands. Martha stepped up behind him and Rose sighed as she watched the young woman’s eyes light up when Mickey whispered to her who the customer was. She clapped her hands silently together, bounced on her toes, and motioned to Rose in no uncertain terms to move her arse out there and deliver the tea.

Shaking her head at her friends, Rose turned back to the seating area and, taking a deep, fortifying breath, she moved toward the Doctor’s table.

He was sat there with his head in his hands, looking miserable, his gorgeous fringe spilling through his fingers. He was wearing a tuxedo, so she assumed he had somewhere to be tonight and couldn’t help but wonder why he was here instead. Unless it had something to do with that ex-girlfriend of his…

But that wasn’t Rose’s business. He had ordered a cuppa, and she would deliver it to him. That was her job. Nothing more to it than that.

Then why, she wondered, was her heart throbbing somewhere in the region of her throat? Why was her mouth as dry as ash and her palms hot and sweaty? Why did she feel that faint, fluttering hope rising in her chest again, the one she’d felt every time the bell over the door had rung over the last few days? The difference was, this time, the source of that hope was actually sitting right in front of her, waiting for her to deliver him a cuppa.

She fought back her giddiness. I have to remain impartial, she told herself. She’d probably find out he wasn’t as wonderful as her memory (and imagination) had made him seem. He’d probably turn out to be a right arse. And maybe that would be for the best. After all, despite her protests to the contrary, she knew Clara was right: she’d been mooning about him since his first visit, prior to Christmas. She needed to get on with her life, and not spend her time fantasising over men she wasn’t nearly accomplished enough to date. Yes, surely, he was a truly horrible person.

With that fortifying thought in mind, she stepped up to his table.

James’ head shot up out of his hands when he heard the soft sound of a throat clearing hesitantly. He’d been so lost in his troubles, he’d not noticed anyone approaching his table. His bleary eyes struggled to make out the source of the sound: a haze of pink and yellow. He picked up his glasses and snapped them onto his face.

Instantly, a most welcome sight came into focus before him. The pretty barista… Rose… was standing before him, cheeks flushed the colour of her namesake, and holding a tray that held what he knew was certain to be the best cuppa in London. His troubles seemed to instantly recede in her presence. (Of course, he warned himself, they hadn’t actually receded, just been put on the backburner of his brain for a blessed few minutes.)

“Hello.” She offered him a shy smile and flushed a deeper shade of red.

He waggled his fingers at her. “Hello.”

“Hello…” she bit her bottom lip endearingly, “…Doctor.”

“That’s me!”

She nodded her head rapidly, fervently agreeing with this statement.

“Is that my tea?”

“Oh, blimey! Yeah… course…” With shaking hands, she unloaded the contents of the tray onto the table. “Would you like me to pour?”

He nodded this time, his usually non-stop gob failing him.

She set his cup in front of him and, lifting the little teapot, poured out his tea with a practiced flair, allowing a few bubbles to form on the surface. “For good luck…” she murmured, as she set the pot down.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“Oh… the bubbles… in your cup… they’re supposed to predict good fortune or some such rot. Generally, financially, but if they cling to the side of the cup… erm… like these ones…” her voice dropped to nearly subaudible levels and she averted her eyes from his, “…they foretell romance.”

“Romance?”

She picked at the little knit cozy covering the pot. “Erm, yeah… each bubble represents a… well… a kiss.”

He beamed at her, covering her fidgeting hand with his. It was warm and soft, and fit perfectly under his. “Thank-you… Rose? Right?”

She met his gaze with wide, wondering eyes and nodded again, a bashful smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “Erm… yeah. Rose. Rose Tyler.”

“Rooooose Tyyyyler.” He rolled the words in his mouth, enjoying the sound and feel of them. “Weeeell, thank-you, Rose Tyler. Not that I believe in superstitions and portents, but I am prepared to suspend my disbelief for tonight. I am more than willing to entertain the possibility that you have changed my fortune with your expert tea pouring. Maybe tonight won’t be the disaster I thought it was going to be, after all.”

“That’s the spirit!” Rose cheered.

“Would you join me?” He reflexively squeezed her hand. “For a cuppa, that is?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d… I’d like that. I’m sure I can find an extra cup around here somewhere. Coffee shop and all, yeah.”

Mickey rocked from one foot to the other, his frustration building with each passing minute. “What are they on about?” he grumbled, gesturing at Rose and the Doctor. “Look at them! Look!”

Martha arched her brow at him. “Yeah, I see them.”

“What the hell is he waiting for, then? They’re obviously into each other. He’s holding her hand and they’re makin’ eyes at each other. It’s sickening, really. So why the hell doesn’t he just ask her out to that gala of his? Urrrrgh!”

“I think he may need a little help with that.”

“What? Why? She’s beautiful and available and–”

“Yeah, but from his point of view, she’s at work. And who knows what else is going on in his head. Maybe he just needs another little nudge.”

“Blimey, he needs more than a nudge. He needs someone to connect the bloody dots.”

“Off you go then, Mickey-Matchmaker. Go connect those dots.”

“Me? Why me? Don’t you think this might require a woman’s touch?”

“Look, this was your idea…”

Mickey glowered at his fiancée.

“Not that I think it’s a bad idea. Like you said, they’re obviously… attracted.”

“Attracted? They’re practically undressing each other with their eyes!”

“Right. All I’m saying is you need to go out and finish the job.”

“What about you? You just gonna stand here whilst I make a fool of myself?”

Martha flashed him a cheeky grin. “Yeah, something like that. Consider it moral support.”

“Pffft, moral support, my arse.” He scowled. “Well, since you’re obviously gonna leave me high and dry… here goes!” He took a step out toward the table where Rose and the Doctor were lost in each other’s gazes but pulled up short at Martha’s next words.

“Oh, and by the way, for my part, I already contacted Amy.” She arched a smug brow.

“And…”

“She can’t wait to help out. Champing at the bit, she is!” Then Martha added in a stage-whisper, “So Rose will have no excuses. Don’t let her worm her way out of this.”

James sat staring blankly at the bloke (Rickey?), a piece of biscotti half-way to his mouth. His brain had surged into overdrive, processing information and probabilities, but it seemed to have forgotten it was connected to his gob, which opened and closed uselessly. He looked over at Rose who gawped back at him with an expression that probably mirrored his own.

He had to admit, the bloke’s plan had merit. He could see himself falling for this girl. If he was being honest, he was already teetering at the edge. He’d just never considered asking a total stranger to accompany him to the gala (apart from his fleeting research into escorts), and he wasn’t entirely sure Rose was even vaguely interested. For one thing, it was all very last minute, the epitome of last minute; frankly, if he could define last minute, this would be it. Secondly, weeell, while she obviously didn’t have any plans to celebrate the New Year, she had plans… working-type plans, plans that were obviously very important to her. And much more important than his stupid University Gala. And, C, no three… thirdly, why the hell would she even want to go out with him? He thought he’d felt some attraction between them, but she didn’t know anything about him… zip, zilch, nada, nought! He could be an axe-murderer for all she knew, a rapist, a–

His rambling thoughts screeched to a halt as he saw her expression morphing from shock and bewilderment to…

“What the actual fuck, Mickey?” she hissed at the young man who stood before them with a proud grin on his face. Her face was now fiery with embarrassment and anger. “How dare you?”

James tugged on his ear and watched, helpless, as Rickey’s grin collapsed. “But it’s perfect, babe, don’t you see?” James had to give the man credit. He’d never be able to face the wrath this bloke was facing, despite having survived Donna (and Aunt Sylvia) for many years. “He needs a date. You need to get a life. Simple.” Rickey (the idiot) ploughed on, clearly oblivious or indifferent to the immediate threat to his existence.

“Oh, I need to get a life, do I?” Rose snarled. “What is all of this, then?” She gestured around the shop. “Seems to me I have a life. A perfectly good life, thank-you very much. I don’t need you–”

“Yeah? Well, me and Martha, we think you do. Babe, you never see beyond these four walls, except to go upstairs–”

“To my home!”

“Home then. My point is, you never leave this building, except to pick up things for the shop.”

“This is my dream…”

“Look, Rickey…” James interjected, shooting a glance at Rose, who was glaring at her friend with pursed lips.

“It’s Mickey!” Mickey snapped.

“Right, sorry… Mickey then… Look, mate, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, and I certainly wouldn’t say no to having Rose on my arm at the Gala this evening, but–”

Rose swept around to face him, the fire in her eyes dying out and a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “You wouldn’t?”

James ran his hand through his hair again (he must look a mess…) “Weeell, no… no, of course not… I’d be honoured… Would you like to come?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Would you, though?”

“Yeah!”

“I just thought because you don’t really know me…”

“Yeah, I thought because you don’t really know me… and I just… I just work in a shop; you might not want me to…”

“Oh, I’d love you to come,” he gushed.

James sensed, rather than saw Mickey backing slowly away. His attention was riveted on the beautiful, blushing woman sitting before him. She beamed at him, her tongue touching the corner of her mouth. “Okay.”

He beamed in return, but his smile quickly dropped away, doubts racing back to the front of his mind. “But you… I mean, you don’t know the first thing about me….” He glanced down at the remains of his biscotti, pushing the crumbs around with a restless finger.

Rose’s hand closed over his, stopping his fidgeting. “I know a little… and,” she fixed him in her warm gaze, “I’d like to know more… But, oh God… oh no! I don’t have anything to wear. Certainly nothing that would do for an event like this one!”

“All taken care of,” a young woman James hadn’t noticed before piped up from the service counter. “Amy is more than happy to lend you something. It’s all arranged.”

“But, Martha…”

“No excuses!” Mickey added. “You’re going! You deserve to get out and enjoy yourself.”

Rose turned her nervous smile back to James and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I’m going, then. That is if you’d still like me to come.”

James felt his spirits soar. For the first time in weeks he didn’t feel like he was plunging head-first into the depths of despair. Maybe his tux wasn’t such a portent of doom, after all. “Oh, yes!” He swept to his feet and offered her his hand. “It’s a date!”

“Yeah…” she chirped, standing and lacing her fingers with his, “…I guess it is!”

“Oh, yes!” he repeated. “Allons-y, Rose Tyler.”

#ficandchips #ten x rose #human au #coffee shop au #fake dating #stalkerish ex #romance #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst #christmas #new year #new year's kiss #tenroseforeverandever's fic

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