Fic: Contagious
Thank you doctor_rose_fix End of Summer Fixathon! I encourage everyone to go pour over it, there's a plethora of fun prompts there. I'm probably going to go snag a new one this morning. :)
Title: Contagious
Author: meself, fid_gin
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all hail the BBC
Summary: For the prompt from cainangrey: "Rose got sick on one of their adventures, while the doctor is a picture of perfect health. Annoyed by this, Rose is determined to pass her cold to him, no matter what it takes."
Notes: Only PG because it's Jackie's POV, so I was limited. But it's got Jackie! And a bit of hurt/comfort! And Ten being a bit oblivious! Who are you to resist it, eh?
Jackie Tyler isn't stupid.
“I'm not stupid, you know,” she says to reiterate this fact. “If you think I'm going to let my daughter sleep with some alien in my flat you can think again.” Rose rolls her eyes at this and blows her nose, adding another to the Everest of used tissues in the bin next to her bed.
It's not that she disapproves of the Doctor so much these days, or mistrusts him, not really - not since Christmas when he'd been warm and friendly and practically like a member of the family. For a few brief moments there she'd actually thought they'd stay, the two of them, and if that had been the case Jackie supposes she could have gotten quite used to the idea of her daughter's boyfriend being from another planet and hundreds of years old. But they didn't stay, they never do, and whatever goes on between them when they're on that spaceship of his, she figures they can at least pretend to be respectful while they're under what is, for the moment, her roof alone.
“It's not like that, Mum,” Rose mumbles, and then sneezes. “Really, it's not.” There's a sadness behind her words that convinces her mother that she's telling the truth. “He just wants to look after me. He's got this thing about damsels in distress, makes him feel important. Plus he gets to be all superior about bein' healthier than humans, or something.” Her voice is nasally through her cold, her 'M's more like 'B's, her normally cheerful tone now flat and tired. Rose attempts to swallow a spoonful from the bowl of soup in her lap, winces as it goes down, then flops back into her old bed where she's currently laid up. Jackie dives forward and retrieves the bowl of lukewarm broth just before it can slosh over the sides.
“All right, sweetheart,” she says softly, brushing Rose's hair back from her hot, damp forehead. “All right.”
When she quietly pokes her head into her daughter's bedroom early the next morning, they are indeed both still fully clothed: Rose in an old pink gown and the Doctor back in Howard's pyjamas. He is curled against her, his eyes open, but Jackie doesn't think he sees...just stares at Rose, his expression unreadable.
*****
“It's my fault,” the Doctor says, looking out the kitchen window. His face is drawn and worried like he hasn't been sleeping, although she still has no idea if he does sleep or not. “All this time on the TARDIS away from 21st century pathogens, her immune system has weakened. I should've known better.” He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes.
“Honestly,” Jackie tuts, moving around him in the tiny kitchen to fix tea, “it's just a cold. She's not in any danger.” She pauses. “Is she?”
“Vitamin boosters,” he continues as though he hasn't heard her, his glasses perched once more on the bridge of his nose and his hands pulling his own hair every which way. “Immunisation. The common cold was cured by 2025, I could have just stopped off and...”
“Doctor.” He stops, mid-ramble. “Is she in any danger?” They stare each other down. Jackie can hear children playing out on the estate. Screaming.
Quickly enough to make her dizzy, the Doctor switches gears on her. “'Course not!” he chirps, beaming madly. “Tea ready, is it?” He snatches the mug right out of her hands, takes a sip and makes a face. “That's...um...good, that's good,” he says, dishonestly. “I'll just...” He ducks out of the room, taking her tea with him. A minute later, she hears him murmuring quietly to Rose in the next room. Gathering dishes in the evening, she finds the half-full cuppa on the nightstand next to a sleeping Rose, while the Doctor sits in a chair across the room, watching.
“What about you?” Jackie asks later. She's sharing a meal with him, though of course he doesn't sit but paces around the table, picking at plates of food and eating with his fingers. It's maddening, but she'll admit it's nice to cook for someone. “Aren't you going to catch it, too?”
“Advanced biology,” the Doctor answers around a mouthful of potato. “Take a lot more than a cough in my general direction to do me in.”
*****
“It's not fair,” she groans. Two days later, and every muscle in Jackie's body hurts, her nose is raw and sore from sneezing, her chest aches from coughing. Rose is still ill but able to get up out of bed at least. The Doctor still joins her every night, and they're quiet as mice in that room. Still she thinks she's seen them...looking at each other. Guilty, happy looks. She knows what that means, though she tries not to dwell on it. “I've got a date tomorrow,” she continues. “I can't let him see me like this!”
“Wouldn't want to do that,” the Doctor agrees, a little too cheerfully. She sees Rose kick a blanketed foot at him from where she's propped up on the couch a few feet away, and he clears his throat and continues disassembling the remote control.
“Well you're certain to catch it now, being in a flat with two sick women,” she says, a little vindictive.
“Never happen,” the Doctor crows, holding up a screw and narrowing his eyes as he inspects it.
“Oh yeah?” Rose asks, suddenly interested. “There's no possible way for you to catch a cold from a human?” She sounds exhausted, but also slightly amused.
“Nope!”
“What if I were to sneeze on you?” Rose asks again.
“Not susceptible to airborne viruses,” he answers, still intent on his tinkering.
“But what about, like, sharing a glass or something?” Jackie is curious about the line of questioning, and she'd swear that her daughter almost sounds smug.
The Doctor still looks distracted as he answers. “It's possible through saliva, yes. But it would have to be repeated, prolonged exposure and a direct exchange of fl...”
The Doctor sneezes.
The room falls silent but for Rose giggling into her hand, and he glances at Jackie with something like terror in his eyes.
“Right,” she growls at him finally. “You and your superior biology are sleeping on the couch from now on.”
Title: Contagious
Author: meself, fid_gin
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all hail the BBC
Summary: For the prompt from cainangrey: "Rose got sick on one of their adventures, while the doctor is a picture of perfect health. Annoyed by this, Rose is determined to pass her cold to him, no matter what it takes."
Notes: Only PG because it's Jackie's POV, so I was limited. But it's got Jackie! And a bit of hurt/comfort! And Ten being a bit oblivious! Who are you to resist it, eh?
Jackie Tyler isn't stupid.
“I'm not stupid, you know,” she says to reiterate this fact. “If you think I'm going to let my daughter sleep with some alien in my flat you can think again.” Rose rolls her eyes at this and blows her nose, adding another to the Everest of used tissues in the bin next to her bed.
It's not that she disapproves of the Doctor so much these days, or mistrusts him, not really - not since Christmas when he'd been warm and friendly and practically like a member of the family. For a few brief moments there she'd actually thought they'd stay, the two of them, and if that had been the case Jackie supposes she could have gotten quite used to the idea of her daughter's boyfriend being from another planet and hundreds of years old. But they didn't stay, they never do, and whatever goes on between them when they're on that spaceship of his, she figures they can at least pretend to be respectful while they're under what is, for the moment, her roof alone.
“It's not like that, Mum,” Rose mumbles, and then sneezes. “Really, it's not.” There's a sadness behind her words that convinces her mother that she's telling the truth. “He just wants to look after me. He's got this thing about damsels in distress, makes him feel important. Plus he gets to be all superior about bein' healthier than humans, or something.” Her voice is nasally through her cold, her 'M's more like 'B's, her normally cheerful tone now flat and tired. Rose attempts to swallow a spoonful from the bowl of soup in her lap, winces as it goes down, then flops back into her old bed where she's currently laid up. Jackie dives forward and retrieves the bowl of lukewarm broth just before it can slosh over the sides.
“All right, sweetheart,” she says softly, brushing Rose's hair back from her hot, damp forehead. “All right.”
When she quietly pokes her head into her daughter's bedroom early the next morning, they are indeed both still fully clothed: Rose in an old pink gown and the Doctor back in Howard's pyjamas. He is curled against her, his eyes open, but Jackie doesn't think he sees...just stares at Rose, his expression unreadable.
*****
“It's my fault,” the Doctor says, looking out the kitchen window. His face is drawn and worried like he hasn't been sleeping, although she still has no idea if he does sleep or not. “All this time on the TARDIS away from 21st century pathogens, her immune system has weakened. I should've known better.” He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes.
“Honestly,” Jackie tuts, moving around him in the tiny kitchen to fix tea, “it's just a cold. She's not in any danger.” She pauses. “Is she?”
“Vitamin boosters,” he continues as though he hasn't heard her, his glasses perched once more on the bridge of his nose and his hands pulling his own hair every which way. “Immunisation. The common cold was cured by 2025, I could have just stopped off and...”
“Doctor.” He stops, mid-ramble. “Is she in any danger?” They stare each other down. Jackie can hear children playing out on the estate. Screaming.
Quickly enough to make her dizzy, the Doctor switches gears on her. “'Course not!” he chirps, beaming madly. “Tea ready, is it?” He snatches the mug right out of her hands, takes a sip and makes a face. “That's...um...good, that's good,” he says, dishonestly. “I'll just...” He ducks out of the room, taking her tea with him. A minute later, she hears him murmuring quietly to Rose in the next room. Gathering dishes in the evening, she finds the half-full cuppa on the nightstand next to a sleeping Rose, while the Doctor sits in a chair across the room, watching.
“What about you?” Jackie asks later. She's sharing a meal with him, though of course he doesn't sit but paces around the table, picking at plates of food and eating with his fingers. It's maddening, but she'll admit it's nice to cook for someone. “Aren't you going to catch it, too?”
“Advanced biology,” the Doctor answers around a mouthful of potato. “Take a lot more than a cough in my general direction to do me in.”
*****
“It's not fair,” she groans. Two days later, and every muscle in Jackie's body hurts, her nose is raw and sore from sneezing, her chest aches from coughing. Rose is still ill but able to get up out of bed at least. The Doctor still joins her every night, and they're quiet as mice in that room. Still she thinks she's seen them...looking at each other. Guilty, happy looks. She knows what that means, though she tries not to dwell on it. “I've got a date tomorrow,” she continues. “I can't let him see me like this!”
“Wouldn't want to do that,” the Doctor agrees, a little too cheerfully. She sees Rose kick a blanketed foot at him from where she's propped up on the couch a few feet away, and he clears his throat and continues disassembling the remote control.
“Well you're certain to catch it now, being in a flat with two sick women,” she says, a little vindictive.
“Never happen,” the Doctor crows, holding up a screw and narrowing his eyes as he inspects it.
“Oh yeah?” Rose asks, suddenly interested. “There's no possible way for you to catch a cold from a human?” She sounds exhausted, but also slightly amused.
“Nope!”
“What if I were to sneeze on you?” Rose asks again.
“Not susceptible to airborne viruses,” he answers, still intent on his tinkering.
“But what about, like, sharing a glass or something?” Jackie is curious about the line of questioning, and she'd swear that her daughter almost sounds smug.
The Doctor still looks distracted as he answers. “It's possible through saliva, yes. But it would have to be repeated, prolonged exposure and a direct exchange of fl...”
The Doctor sneezes.
The room falls silent but for Rose giggling into her hand, and he glances at Jackie with something like terror in his eyes.
“Right,” she growls at him finally. “You and your superior biology are sleeping on the couch from now on.”