prompt: tenrose bed sharing trope + resolved tension 😳 ps your fics are incredible i literally read them daily
well, nonny, i’m sorry it took me so long. life has been tough. but then, so are we. i hope you enjoy this, despite its lateness and its length.
the title is taken from an edmund spenser poem, sonnet xxiii.
please note that there are multiple interpretations of “resolved tension,” and i wasn’t sure what rating you were looking to read! this version ends in a way that i think one could find quite satisfying, but because i’m me and i don’t know when to stop...
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𝕀 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕖𝕟𝕕
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He knocked on the door before entering; it seemed, after all, like the polite thing to do, and everyone in this time period was enormously polite—almost absurdly so. Rose seemed to find the bowing and scraping and two-faced flattery equal parts fascinating and frustrating, doing her best to play along. The least he could do was reciprocate.
For now, anyway.
Namely because a bit of stiff upper lip and classic English repression would help him through the awkwardness of spending the night with Rose, who he had introduced as his wife. Again.
He did that a lot, actually. Sometimes by accident. Certainly more often than was strictly necessary. It was an easy way, in most circumstances, to guarantee that they wouldn't be separated, and he took the concept of "safety in numbers" quite seriously when it came to unfamiliar cultures. Having a hand to hold, having someone to watch your back was of the utmost importance. And that meant presenting a unified front.
And nothing said "unified"—to humans, anyway—more than the concept of marriage.
So.
"I am Doctor Smith," he'd said unflinchingly. "And this is my wife."