I read this way back in probably 2007-2010 on ffn or Teaspoon, but I swear there was a fic where holding hands was the way Gallifreyans had sex. I'm pretty sure it was 10/Rose, but it might've been 9/Rose.
None of us know this one. Can anyone else help? ~pyf
Think I may have found it! Five Ways Prolonged Genetic Exposure Probably Doesnât Work in Canon, by @allegoricalrose. ~pyf (This is, indeed, TenxRose.) Is this what youâre looking for?
allegoricalrose replied to your post âone of the reasons the next clexa eleven au chapt is taking so long is...â
p.s. glad you're alive, friend! :-)
tothewesternsky replied to your post âone of the reasons the next clexa eleven au chapt is taking so long is...â
how dare you return to my dash like this, baddest. how dare you.
allegoricalrose replied to your post âone of the reasons the next clexa eleven au chapt is taking so long is...â
1000% okay with that being expanded into 50000 words. I need to know how they're at the same summer camp, how Lexa acts at summer camp (sporty? shy? adorable?), and EXACTLY what Clarke thought the second she laid eyes on Lexa. Also, much much more on the sharing a bed thing. Obviously. :DD
lol hiiiii friends !! and omg i could so easily write 50k words on that donât tempt me! iâll never finish a fic at this rate lmao :D :D
It wasnât until the next day that Lucifer realized he still had Chloeâs necklace.
While stepping over yesterdayâs rumpled clothes -- the ones heâd discarded for a couple glorious rounds with a non-shoe -- he noticed a few links of a silver chain had slipped free from the pocket of his trousers. He bent to slide the rest of the necklace free and crouched there, in the middle of his bedroom floor, rolling the compacted bullet between his fingers.
If he were an introspective devil, he might have been struck by the same gut-warming feelings he had when the idea for this gift first occurred to him. And if he were a sentimental devil, he mightâve smiled at the memory of Chloeâs face when he handed her the box -- how surprised and touched she was by his present before sheâd even opened it.
(He mightâve also noted, with some alarm, that it was her smile that stood out the most from that night, even though she was sleeping in his bed and wearing his favorite shirt.)
But he wasnât introspective or sentimental, he reminded himself. He scrubbed his hand down his face and squared his shoulders, resetting his features as if itâd make it true.
***
âYou forgot this, detective!â he called by way of announcing himself, stepping through the doorway to Chloeâs house.
(Heâd been trying to remember to knock lately, he really had, but surely hosting a family game night bought him a few surprise entrances.)
âJesus Christ, Lucifer.â Chloe glared at him, nearly toppling over as she stepped into her boot. Â
Lucifer frowned. âWhat does he have to do with anything?â
âHuh?â
âNevermind.â
Chloe arched an eyebrow at him, but didnât press the matter further. It hit him that that this probably counted as a bluff -- the whole telling her without really telling her thing -- but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind for now.
It certainly helped that the front of his mind was focused on the detective, who was standing in front of the foyer mirror and sweeping her hair into a ponytail with her fingers. Heâd known her for years now, but he still found her mundanities fascinating. (Did that make her less of a shoe, or him more of one?) His face softened as he watched her, and if his eyes dropped to the spot between her shoulderblades -- just to check -- it was purely out of habit.
âForgot what?â
Lucifer jolted and met her eyes in the mirror. âPardon?â
âYou waltzed in here and announced that you had something I forgot.â She finished fastening the hair tie and propped a hand on her hip. âIt was like 90 seconds ago. And Iâm the forgetful one...â she muttered.
âAh, yes.â Lucifer grinned and crossed the space between them. Chloe made to turn and face him but he stopped her by placing a firm hand on her shoulder. He made sure she was watching -- ignoring her trademark unimpressed squint -- and dangled the necklace in front of her.
âOh.â Her hand fell to her chest as if to check that it really wasnât there. âGuess I forgot, what with everything going on.â
Her brow creased, like she mightâve upset him, so Lucifer hurried on. âNot to worry, detective. I know it clashed with your outfit.â
He stepped in closer to loop the chain around her neck, purposefully avoiding her eyes in the reflection. Instead he focused on fitting the clasp at the back of her neck and positioning it just so, right in the center, like heâd wanted to do on the night he gave it to her. Before he could stop himself -- before he could even register the movement -- he trailed a fingertip along the chain from her nape to her shoulder, and if he didnât know any better heâd swear it gave her goosebumps.
âI donât want you to think--â Chloe started and then cut off, chewing her lip for a moment before trying again. âIt wasnât that it didnât go with my outfit.â
âOh.â He stepped back, hands falling to his sides. âI see.â
He didnât see, not really, but he suddenly felt presumptuous for putting the necklace on her. Perhaps sheâd only worn it to be polite.
âLucifer,â she said softly, turning to face him. He pretended to be particularly interested in a scratch on the hardwood until she squeezed his hand. âI know things between us are⊠muddled, sometimes. But this necklace means a lot to me, and I didnât want to diminish it or, I donât know, further confuse things by wearing it when I was pretending to be someone else.â She stepped in closer and ducked her head to catch his gaze. âDoes that make sense?â
He huffed out a quiet laugh, feeling a bit foolish. âYes,â he said. âBesides, if anyone knows about the follies of pretending, itâs me.â
She smiled up at him, sparking a pang in his chest -- something that was happening all too often these days. He wasnât really bluffing this time, he told himself. He was pretending. It wasnât his fault if she misinterpreted his meaning.
To distract himself (yes, only to distract himself) he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. She hesitated for an instant and then she was sinking into him, looping her arms low around his back. His mind traveled to their last hug, when, despite the awkward angles, something in his world clicked divinely into place.
It scared him. It still did. So he honed his focus on the feel of her against him in an attempt to distract himself from the fear inching up his spine. He didnât think heâd ever get used to how slight she felt in his arms, the way his hands nearly spanned the width of her back.
It didnât seem right that someone as strong and bold and brave as her could tuck her head right under his chin. That they could fit together so perfectly.
Chloe sighed and nuzzled against the collar of his shirt. âYou know, for the Lord of Hell, you really give the best hugs.â
Lucifer scoffed. He was about to tell her that for many people hugs were, actually, a form of torture, but he held his tongue for once.
âDonât tell anyone,â he whispered. He drew her in closer, feeling the warmth of her laughter in his chest, and if his lips brushed against her temple it was simply unintentional.
(Bluffing to himself, he decided, didnât count.)