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"Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life." - Oscar Wilde
The thing about his life, David thinks as the quiet flat floods with light at the flip of a switch, is that it’s been tied to fiction in one way or another as long as he can remember.
Shreds of truth bleeding back and forth between reality and fantasy. The life of an actor. Committed as he is to his dream role, some days it’s hard to tell where his life stops and the Doctor’s story begins.
The Doctor had Rose and then lost Rose, only to get her back at some future point as of yet undetermined by Russell.
David met Billie and then lost Billie. But if the buzz is to be believed, Billie is coming back. To the show, he reminds himself. Not to him.
The Doctor and Rose. David and Billie.
Bloody hell, he’s exhausted. Must be making him philosophical. Sentimental.
She still lingers his mind, of course she does. Especially today. Billie was the only companion he’d known since joining the show -- until now. But Freema is proving to be an absolute delight and he has no business wallowing in nostalgia when the only way to move is forward.
The face of his co-star changes but the rest remains the same. Long production days that leave him bone-tired and ready to simply fall into bed. New companion, new series today; it was a lot to take in and he finds himself contemplating doing just that when a knock sounds at his door.
David groans his displeasure at the interruption but nonetheless answers. The door swings open to reveal none other than Billie Piper.
He balks. “Bills… what are you doing here?”
“Hello to you, too.” She sticks her little pink tongue out playfully and pushes past him into the flat. At least her comfort level with invading his personal space hasn’t changed. “I visited the set today, but the almighty Doctor was too busy filming for me to say hi.”
David follows her with his eyes, his hand still holding the knob of the open door. The warm air wafting in on a breeze is a gentle reassurance he hasn’t already fallen into dreaming.
“Yeah… busy day,” his mouth is telling her but he feels disconnected from the words. “You know how it is. I’m knackered.”
“I know.” She smiles, her eyes warm with understanding, and holds up one hand to reveal a plastic Tesco’s bag. “I’ve got pasta. Come on. I’ll make you dinner.”
He nods dumbly, still flustered by her sudden appearance, and finally shuts the door.
Billie makes her way straight to the kitchen and plops the grocery bag on the counter. By the time David turns around she is already in the cabinets searching for a pot. When he enters the room she flashes another gentle smile as she fills the pot she’s found with water.
“So, first day back,” she says. “How was it?”
He leans heavily against the counter while she plunks the pot on a burner and turns up the heat.
“Alright.”
A pause.
Billie taps her fingers on the counter restlessly. “How is everyone?”
“Good, good.”
“Freema settling in?”
“Yeah. You know.” He keeps saying that. You know. She knows. “She’s been around.” Freema was a guest star first, after all. “And you’re never really new for very long.”
It’s terrible, the awkwardness that’s set in as they make small talk out of the thick silence taking the place of words neither are brave enough to say. It’s pleasant enough, but their conversations have never been this stilted before; not even when they first met. Yet here they are. Another kitchen. Full circle.
Billie nods. She’s not looking at him. She’s looking at the first tendrils of steam rising from the water. David is looking too. They are standing in his kitchen, watching a pot of water on the stove.
She leans over, looking down through the water to the bottom, presumably for the first telltale bubbles to form.
David opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.
“Water takes forever to boil. I hate that.”
He moves closer, trying to place himself in her field of vision. “Billie. Why are you here?”
“Showing off.” She turns to face him fully and strikes a pose with her arms akimbo. “Can’t you see?”
David looks her up and down, searching for some visible difference from the last time he saw her. “New hair?” She giggles and shakes her head. “New clothes? I don’t really know designers, I have no idea.”
She snorts. “Nope. And you’re one to talk Mr. Abercrombie.”
He rolls his eyes and waves off her dig.
“If it’s a new tattoo or piercing, I don’t see it.”
Realizing the implications of that statement too late, he shuts his mouth with an audible click and fights to keep his cheeks from flushing red.
Billie smirks, triumphant that she has apparently won this little guessing game. Biting her lip adorably, she pulls aside the neckline of her blouse to reveal a familiar black strap. David would know -- she’d done the very same thing off set to show off the infamous wonderbra that turned out to be the real costume difference between Rose and Cassandra.
His eyes widen and he whispers conspiratorially. “You took it?”
“They won’t miss it. I liked it.” She shrugs. “And you couldn’t stop talking about it.”
Oh.
So she’s seen the footage of his running commentary about her breasts while rehashing his second episode with Phil and Russell for the Confidential. Well, of course she has. He expected that. What he didn’t expect was to be called on it.
It just isn’t their way. They flirt and laugh and tease but they never say. There are smiles and looks and accidental-maybe-not-accidental touches... but never words.
The Doctor and Rose.
But just like that, the unspoken has become spoken.
She’s opened the door for him.
He’s too much of a coward to walk through. Risky as it is, he loves the idea of them. But he’s pretty sure he loves his dream role more. It’s complicated.
David and Billie.
“Well, you know.” He shrugs, affecting the same casual demeanor to match hers. “Fanservice.”
Billie glowers at him, not having his attempt at deflection. In fact, it seems she’s fed up completely with all this careful dancing around the subject.
Which is, perhaps, why she grabs the hem of her top and pulls it over her head. The blouse drops to the tiled floor of the kitchen and David’s eyes fall to the infamous wonderbra without his permission.
Well, shit.
He backs up two steps. Clenches his hands in fists at his sides. “What are you doing?”
“Conversation starter,” Billie deadpans. “One of us has to start talking.”
Touché.
“I’m not talking about forever, Dave,” she continues. “Just tonight. Just… talking about it for once instead of pretending there’s nothing here.”
She gestures vaguely in the air between them. David swallows reflexively. He can’t meet her eyes. But he knows she’s waiting for an answer.
When he speaks, his voice is small. “You left.”
“It’s just a show--”
“But before you left,” he says, a bit more firmly. “You never said.”
She stands tall; chest high and wonderbra clad breasts pushed out proudly on display. Her stance proclaims her determination even as her eyes betray her hesitation.
“But I had to leave, didn’t I? For us to know. One of us had to walk away.”
He knows what she means. Simple chemistry. It’s easy to believe you have something simmering with your co-star while you’re attached at the hip every day. Put a little distance between you and find out if it was ever real.
If you still think about her. Dream about her. Want her.
Billie takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “So what do you say now?”
He doesn’t say anything, as it turns out. Drama is full of dialogue -- a script made up of far more lines than stage directions. Life, he finds, is all about action. It’s always been that way with them.
Action.
David crosses the space between them and brings his hands to her face. He skips the wonderbra completely -- for now. Now is the time for lips meeting. Confirmation and affirmation together in a sweet, tentative kiss.
It doesn’t stay that way for long. The kiss matures and deepens. It moves. Bumps up against the counter with a soft moan -- from him or from her or both -- and follows a trail of discarded clothing, joining Billie’s shirt on the floor, leading to the other room.
The wonderbra stays on. It’s tugged down; pushed out of the way and tucked underneath naked breasts but still appreciated for its role in this conclusion.
There are words. Yes and Fuck and Dave and Bills. But mostly it’s action. Kissing, licking, sucking, thrusting, and yes, above all shagging.
It’s rough and it’s quick but it’s perfect. Both of them gasping and sighing as they fall apart; a year of sexual tension released in an explosive climax.
“Finally,” Billie says. David couldn’t agree more.
On the stove, the water finally comes to a boil.