Title: Tell Me Everything
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Peter Carlisle
Fandom: Doctor Who/Blackpool
Rating: PG-13
Table: 4
Prompt: 33, Forgive
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Peter Carlisle. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor sighed, turning the frosted glass he held and studying it. Four days, and he still hadn't told Peter about himself yet. He couldn't keep going like this; he had to let his lover know the truth about who -- and what -- he was.

It wasn't fair to Peter to keep him in the dark. He deserved to know exactly what he was dealing with, and that soon, very soon, he would have to face the choice of letting the Doctor go -- or going with him, out into time and space, and leaving behind his life. Leaving his job, his home, his friends, everything he knew.

How was he going to tell Peter the truth? He'd left it too long now; the other man would demand to know why he hadn't been told all of this before, and it would result in an argument -- with him having to leave Peter behind. He was sure it would happen, and it was his own fault. If only he'd talked to Peter about this sooner ....

If only. That had been the story of so many decades of his life, hadn't it? The Doctor sighed again, setting down his glass and resting his chin on his hand. Peter would be here soon; he'd gone to get some money, protesting when the Doctor had told him that he was spending too much on someone he'd just met.

"You barely know me," he'd told Peter, almost wincing at how apt those words were. And he'd felt a wave of guilt sneaking over him when Peter had squeezed his hand, leaned near to him and pressed a kiss to his lips, with the words, "I know you well enough, in the ways that matter. Everything else is only incidental."

No, Peter didn't know him. His lover knew every inch of his body intimately; he knew how the Doctor looked when he came, how he cried out Peter's name, how his body spasmed in the other man's arms. But he didn't know where he was from; he didn't know that the Doctor was radically different from anyone else he'd ever known.

If only he'd been honest with Peter from the very beginning, then things wouldn't be in such a tangle now, the Doctor berated himself. But how could he have known just how close they would become? He hadn't expected this on that first night they'd been together.

Peter had fallen in love with him, utterly and completely, just as the Doctor had with him. But could that love be sustained once Peter found out about him? He wasn't so sure of that. He'd seen for himself how quickly love could turn to resentment, and how bitterly that could burn, especially in a human who felt they'd been betrayed.

Not telling Peter the truth had been the worst sort of betrayal, the Doctor thought, leaning back in the chair and running his hand over his face. They'd both been caught up in the power of their physical relationship, and now that they were coming back down to the ground, he was having to face some hard facts.

He should have told Peter about himself after their first night together. It would have cut him to the quick to be rejected then, but it would hurt much more now; he'd let his heart become involved with Peter in a way he hadn't expected, and losing this man would be the most painful experience he'd ever had to deal with.

Not for the first time, he cursed himself for being a coward. Funny, that -- he could charge into situations that seemed to promise almost certain death, offer himself up as a sacrifice to save a world -- but when it came to telling the man he loved that he wasn't human, and that he could have to make a choice to be with him, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He would have to do it now. Today. He had no choice but to tell Peter about what he was; if he didn't, the gap between them would grow wider. He could already feel a distance springing up, and he had to wonder if Peter felt it too.

That distance shouldn't exist -- and it wouldn't, if he'd already told Peter everything about himself. He wasn't sure just how his lover was going to take it, but he couldn't put it off any longer. If he did, then it would eat into the fabric of their relationship, and eventually destroy what they had.

The Doctor heaved another sigh, looking up to see Peter coming across the room towards the table he was sitting at. How was he going to react to being told that not only was he in love with a man, something that was entirely new to him -- but that the man he was in love with was also an alien being from another time and another world?

He couldn't take his eyes off his lover as Peter approached their table, sliding into the chair across from his. He'd thought the other man was attractive when he'd first laid eyes on him -- but during their time together, Peter had taken on a glow that made him the most beautiful and desirable man the Doctor had ever seen.

Was that what being in love did to a person? Not that he was entirely sure that Peter was in love with him, the Doctor told himself. He'd never said those three little words. At least, he hadn't said them when the Time Lord could hear him.

Why did he have such a need to hear those words? It wouldn't make what he had to tell Peter any easier -- but perhaps it would make him feel that he had a better chance of keeping Peter by his side once the other man knew what he was, if he had the assurance of knowing that Peter loved him and wanted to stay with him.

"That didn't take long," Peter told him, leaning forward and taking the Doctor's hand in his own, smiling across the table at him. The Doctor could feel his hearts accelerate in his chest; Peter's touch could always do that to him. That touch, that smile, those eyes .... there was no way he could leave this man behind.

"No, it didn't," he murmured, looking away and taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He had to tell Peter about himself now. If he didn tcome out with it tonight, then he wasn't going to be able to force those words out. He would end up having to leave Peter simply because he hadn't been able to be truthful with his lover.

"What are you looking so serious about?" Peter asked him, his look of happy anticipation fading a bit. The Doctor looked up quickly, trying to smile, hating the fact that he seemed to be destroying Peter's happy mood. "You look as though something's on your mind. I hope it's nothing I've done."

The Doctor shook his head, making himself look across the table at Peter. "No, of course not. It's nothing you've done -- it's something I've done. Or rather, something I haven't done, because I've been afraid to. Afraid of what you would think."

Peter shook his head, a smile curving his lips as he gazed at the Doctor. "There's nothing you could say or do that would make me think any less of you -- or change my feelings about you," he said in a soft voice, squeezing the Doctor's hand. "Whatever it is, don't worry. Just tell me. There's nothing you could say that would make me love you any less."

The Doctor sat back, his eyes widening at Peter's last words. He felt as though the breath had been knocked from his body; he'd wanted to hear those words come from his lover's lips, but this wasn't the time or place he'd expected them to be said. It took him a while to find his voice; when he did, it sounded weak and thready.

"Y-you .... love me?" he whispered, unable to make any other words come out. His eyes were locked on Peter's face, searching for any uncertainty, any indication that the other man didn't mean what he said. It took him a few moments to realize that he was holding his breath, waiting for Peter to say that it was a joke and nothing more.

"Of course I love you," Peter said softly, squeezing his hand again. "After all that's happened between us, how could you doubt it?"

What could he say now? How was he going to be able to tell Peter that he was an alien, that he would have to leave Las Vegas soon, and that he wanted Peter to give up his life and everything that he knew here on Earth in his own time to come with him out into the galaxy and be his companion -- as well as his lover?

Maybe he should just say it. It was the only way that he was going to be able to get the words out -- just let them come, without thinking about them, and hope that Peter wasn't either so disgusted that he got up and walked away, or so shocked that he fainted right there on the other side of the table.

"Peter .... I need to tell you something about myself," he began, clearing his throat when the words seemed to get stuck somewhere between his brain and his tongue. "Well, actually, a lot of things. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not from Britain, and I'm not some sort of medical doctor. I haven't lied to you, but I've omitted a lot of things."

Peter looked confused, his brow furrowing. "I've already told you that whatever you have to tell me about yourself isn't going to make any difference," he said, studying the Doctor with an inquisitive expression. "I meant that, you know."

"I know you did, love," the Doctor said softly, reaching out his other hand for Peter's. Good. Both hands holding his, a firm, strong touch. Now, it only remained to be seen whether Peter would pull away from him, or whether his revelations would be taken fairly calmly, and indeed wouldn't change the way Peter felt.

"Then what's the problem?" his lover asked him, looking even more confused. The Doctor wanted to laugh, to reach over and touch Peter's cheek, pull the other man into his arms and kiss him. He'd never seen anyone look so utterly adorable. Peter was an intelligent man, not often confused, and seeing him like this was a bit of a treat.

But it wouldn't be a treat once Peter knew what he was. The Doctor took another deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, Peter was still sitting there, still looking at him expectantly. He drank in those features, those eyes, the smile on his face, as though it might be the last time he ever saw that sight.

"Peter .... I'm .... not from this world. Not from this time," he said, wishing that there was some way to make his pronouncements sound less fantastical -- though of course there wasn't. "I'm from a planet called Gallifrey, from another time. I'm not human. I'm a Time Lord. I'm .... nothing that you've ever known before."

He'd kept his eyes on Peter's face as he spoke; the other man just sat there, blinking as if he was trying to take in and process everything the Doctor had said. He was silent, staring at the Time Lord, his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide.

"You can't be serious," he finally said, his eyes never leaving the Doctor's. "That sounds completely and utterly mad. If I didn't know you so well, I'd swear that you were some sort of escaped mental patient. But I know you're not, so .... you're either saying this to make some strange kind of joke, or -- you mean it."

"I do mean it," the Doctor said softly, still keeping his eyes locked with Peter's. "I mean every word of it, Peter. I'm not mad, and I'm not joking. Every word I'm saying is true. Think back. Haven't there been some things about me that you've thought were strange? Things that you couldn't quite explain?"

"Yes ...." Peter hadn't let go of his hands, which the Doctor took as a good sign. "There have been so many things that I haven't quite known how to explain about you -- but I thought that you would give me an explanation, in time. I just hadn't expected this to be it." He shook his head, looking down at their entwined fingers.

"Peter, please believe me. I'm not playing games with you," the Doctor told him, desperately wishing that this wasn't so hard. Why couldn't humans accept that there were other life forms in the universe? Why couldn't they open their minds and believe? If he lost Peter because of this, he would spend forever cursing what he was.

"I .... I don't know why, but I do believe you," the other man whispered. "Maybe it's because there are so many things about you that have seemed otherworldly and strange since we met -- but I do believe you, even though I must be mad to do it."

"You aren't mad," the Doctor replied, squeezing Peter's hands and feeling a wave of relief rush over him. This had been a bit easier than he thought -- but he was sure that Peter didn't entirely believe him yet. "There's something that may make you realise I'm telling the truth, even if you still have a shadow of doubt."

"And what is that?" Peter asked him, raising his head to look the Doctor in the eye again. "A third nipple that somehow was hidden from me? Two heads? Are you really a little green alien who's masking your true appearance?" He winced at his last words, looking away from the Doctor with a slight shudder. "God, I hope not."

The Doctor wanted to laugh, but he managed to keep the sound back. "No, that's not it at all. This is what I really look like -- well, in this regeneration, anyway." He shook his head at Peter's raised eyebrows, sighing. "That's a long story. I'll have to explain regeneration to you someday. You might find it interesting -- most humans seem to."

"All right," Peter murmured, still looking at him with a guarded expression. "Just what is it that you can show me to prove what you're saying, then? I know every inch of your body, Doctor. There's nothing about you physically that I haven't already discovered."

The Doctor stood up, leading Peter to the small dance floor near their table. The restaurant wasn't crowded, but there were a few couples swaying to the soft jazz music while they were waiting. He slipped an arm around the other man, letting Peter lead, moving closer as his lover's arm tightened around his waist.

"Put your hand on my chest," he whispered, his mouth close to Peter's ear. "And tell me what you feel."

Peter did as the Doctor said, a look of amazement spreading over his face. He moved his hand from one side of the Time Lord's chest to the other, feeling the dual heartbeats under his palm. His look went from uncomprehending to dumbstruck, and his eyes sought out the Doctor's gaze again, as though for confirmation of what he was feeling.

"Yes," the Doctor told him, his voice soft so that it wouldn't carry to the other people on the dance floor. "I have two hearts, Peter. I'm surprised that you never noticed it when we were making love, but then, I think you may have had other things on your mind then, so you weren't exactly paying attention to my heartbeats."

"You have two hearts," Peter whispered, his eyes still wide and locked on the Doctor's face. "You aren't human. I've been making love to an alien. I've fallen in love with an alien. This is .... unbelievable."

"I'm not so alien that I don't have emotions and needs, just like you do," the Doctor told him, hating the pleading tone that had slipped into his voice. "I'm not so different from you, Peter. I have a much longer life span, and there are other things about me that you may find hard to understand, but .... I'm enough like you to love you."

"I .... I don't want to let anything come between us. I don't want anything to change how I feel about you," Peter whispered, his voice sounding hoarse and choked. "This doesn't change my feelings. It probably should, but it doesn't. I look at you, and I don't see an alien. I see the man I've fallen in love with."

The Doctor stopped moving near the corner of the floor, taking Peter's face between his hands and gazing into his dark eyes. "I am the man you've fallen in love with," he whispered, his own voice choked with tears he didn't dare shed. "I'm more like you than you might think. And I love you, Peter Carlisle. Please believe that."

"I do." Peter's eyes were fixed on his, never leaving his gaze. "You wouldn't have been able to tell me all this if you didn't love me. And you wouldn't seem so afraid of what I would think if you weren't terrified of losing what we have. I'm terrified of that too, Doctor. I don't want to lose you -- no matter what you are."

The Doctor could feel a wave of relief rushing over him. Peter understood. He wasn't going to turn and walk away. Somehow, against all the odds, he was still here, and still wanted to be with him. Maybe this time would be different from all the others. Maybe Peter would be the man who would stay with him.

"Please forgive me for not telling you sooner," he murmured, wishing that he'd been able to do so. "You're right -- I was terrified of telling you. All I could think of was the possibility of losing you, and I convinced myself that I should put off the telling. I should have been honest with you from the start, Peter. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to forgive." Peter's voice was soft, husky in his ear. "I know now. And it doesn't change anything. You're still the most beautiful man I've ever met. You're still the man I love. And you're still the man I want to spend my life with. So you're a bit .... more than I expected. I can live with that."

Then Peter's mouth was on his, cutting off any other words he could have said. Peter's arms were around his waist, pulling him close. His senses were drowning in the other man; all he could think of was how much he wanted this man -- and how much he loved him.

It was going to be all right. Peter wasn't pulling away. Peter was kissing him just as passionately as he'd kissed him this morning when they'd awakened next to each other, before he'd had any idea of what the Doctor was. Peter wasn't going to turn away from him, leave him because he was different.

"This is all a bit much to take in," his lover whispered into his ear, one hand moving down the Doctor's back to cup his ass. The Doctor didn't care who saw them; all he could think about was how good Peter's hands felt on his body. "I think we should go back to our room and discuss it -- in detail. Overnight."

"Yes," he murmured in answer, not caring that they weren't going to have dinner. All he wanted to do was get back to their room, and let Peter ask whatever questions he wanted. Whatever questions he had, the Doctor would answer. He owed Peter that much. And whatever the other man wanted to do to him, he was more than willing to submit to.

Besides, who needed food at a time like this? Maybe they couldn't manage to live on love alone, but it might be an interesting experiment to try.

***