Fic: Miss Congeniality [Doctor Who; Ten, Rose, Martha, Donna; PG]
Title: Miss Congeniality
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rated: PG
Characters/Pairings: Ten, Rose, Martha, Donna
Spoilers: Everything ever in the entire universe and everything.
Summary: The Doctor forgot one very important fact about Rose Tyler.
Author’s Notes: Silly, silly fluff.
There were a lot of things the Doctor remembered about Rose.
He remembered how she was cranky when she woke up and also cranky right before she went to sleep, and these were not times to tease her, or talk about important issues, or tell her about how Trans-dimensional Dermal Physics were responsible for the spot on her chin that she was going to get next week.
He remembered the way her hair changed color, depending upon how well Jackie mixed the dye she used for touching up the roots.
He remembered how she smelled after a shower--almonds, coconut and vanilla--and how she smelled after a long day of running for their lives--almonds, coconut, vanilla and girl sweat--and how she smelled that time they ran for their lives and then fell into a bog--almonds, coconut, vanilla, girl sweat and frog urine.
He remembered how she liked chocolate biscuits, but not frosted ones, and how she preferred her tea with milk and honey rather than sugar, and how she once conspired with the TARDIS to translate everything he heard into Gluck, one of the few languages of which he didn’t speak more than “Hello!” and “Where’s the loo?” While the TARDIS had certainly done the footwork, the way Rose had leaned on the center console, laughing so hard that she was snorting, indicated that she’d been the brains behind the operation.
He remembered how she bit her thumb when she was nervous and bounced when she was excited. He remembered how her hands were soft, save for calluses on her palms from helping him fly the TARDIS, and how well those hands fit into his. He remembered that she’d asked him to read to her when she came down with a bad case of the Mizoulian Flu. He remembered that she sometimes used to rest her nose on his arm, breathing in the leather smell, and then later, it was her cheek on his overcoat-clad shoulder.
The Doctor remembered all of these things and more, as he was really very good at remembering things, what with his superior Time Lord memory and all. So, he was rather surprised to find that he’d forgotten one thing about Rose. One teensy-weensy, but terribly important thing.
She got along well with everyone.
Yes, Rose made friends wherever she went. And while it was sometimes a source of irritation for him--she had a habit of collecting pretty boys, the odd pretty girl, and even, on one memorable occasion, a fuzzy biped that he hadn’t been sure how to sex without being terribly impolite--he never had to worry about how she’d fare with the locals. No matter what they were doing, he could count on Rose to be an ambassador of good will. Nearly everyone liked her. She was personable. The Doctor conjectured they were quite alike in that respect, though when he mentioned it to her, she did the snorty laugh again.
He’d thought that a bit rude.
The point, though, was that Rose played well with others. She was Miss bloody Congeniality. He knew that. Of course he did. So, he wasn’t entirely sure why it came as such a surprise when she and Martha took one look at each other and were instantly bosom friends.
He played the scene over and over in his head. They’d been in London overnight, which they had to be a bit careful about, since, in that universe, Rose was still technically dead. So, he’d rung up Martha, just to say hello, and she’d decided to pop ‘round for a visit. They’d all been in the console room when he’d introduced them. “Rose, Martha. Martha, Rose,” he’d said. He’d been about to go on to some awkward, ice-breaking small-talk when the two women had grinned at each other.
And then they’d run to each other, and hugged, and squealed a bit, and bounced up and down, and talked over each other in some sort of fast, abbreviated girl-speak that he couldn't comprehend.
For a moment, he was afraid that the TARDIS, too, was in cahoots with them.
It wasn’t that he’d expected there to be a catfight for his honor. Not exactly, anyway. But he’d been gobsmacked when they’d told him they were going off to do some shopping and catch up on things.
“But you’ve only just met,” he’d said, when he’d regained the power of speech. It was too late, though. The door was already slamming behind them as they trotted off, hand-in-hand.
That wasn’t the worst of it, though. The worst--the absolute worst--was when he walked into the kitchen to find Rose and Donna giggling madly over tea. When he’d asked them what was so funny, they’d only laughed harder. Donna’s giggles turned into full-blown cackling, and Rose snorted so much that tea came out her nose.
And then, sagging against the kitchen counter, he knew it.
He knew it undeniably.
He knew it without a doubt.
He knew it to be the absolute, one hundred percent truth.
He was rather completely screwed.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rated: PG
Characters/Pairings: Ten, Rose, Martha, Donna
Spoilers: Everything ever in the entire universe and everything.
Summary: The Doctor forgot one very important fact about Rose Tyler.
Author’s Notes: Silly, silly fluff.
There were a lot of things the Doctor remembered about Rose.
He remembered how she was cranky when she woke up and also cranky right before she went to sleep, and these were not times to tease her, or talk about important issues, or tell her about how Trans-dimensional Dermal Physics were responsible for the spot on her chin that she was going to get next week.
He remembered the way her hair changed color, depending upon how well Jackie mixed the dye she used for touching up the roots.
He remembered how she smelled after a shower--almonds, coconut and vanilla--and how she smelled after a long day of running for their lives--almonds, coconut, vanilla and girl sweat--and how she smelled that time they ran for their lives and then fell into a bog--almonds, coconut, vanilla, girl sweat and frog urine.
He remembered how she liked chocolate biscuits, but not frosted ones, and how she preferred her tea with milk and honey rather than sugar, and how she once conspired with the TARDIS to translate everything he heard into Gluck, one of the few languages of which he didn’t speak more than “Hello!” and “Where’s the loo?” While the TARDIS had certainly done the footwork, the way Rose had leaned on the center console, laughing so hard that she was snorting, indicated that she’d been the brains behind the operation.
He remembered how she bit her thumb when she was nervous and bounced when she was excited. He remembered how her hands were soft, save for calluses on her palms from helping him fly the TARDIS, and how well those hands fit into his. He remembered that she’d asked him to read to her when she came down with a bad case of the Mizoulian Flu. He remembered that she sometimes used to rest her nose on his arm, breathing in the leather smell, and then later, it was her cheek on his overcoat-clad shoulder.
The Doctor remembered all of these things and more, as he was really very good at remembering things, what with his superior Time Lord memory and all. So, he was rather surprised to find that he’d forgotten one thing about Rose. One teensy-weensy, but terribly important thing.
She got along well with everyone.
Yes, Rose made friends wherever she went. And while it was sometimes a source of irritation for him--she had a habit of collecting pretty boys, the odd pretty girl, and even, on one memorable occasion, a fuzzy biped that he hadn’t been sure how to sex without being terribly impolite--he never had to worry about how she’d fare with the locals. No matter what they were doing, he could count on Rose to be an ambassador of good will. Nearly everyone liked her. She was personable. The Doctor conjectured they were quite alike in that respect, though when he mentioned it to her, she did the snorty laugh again.
He’d thought that a bit rude.
The point, though, was that Rose played well with others. She was Miss bloody Congeniality. He knew that. Of course he did. So, he wasn’t entirely sure why it came as such a surprise when she and Martha took one look at each other and were instantly bosom friends.
He played the scene over and over in his head. They’d been in London overnight, which they had to be a bit careful about, since, in that universe, Rose was still technically dead. So, he’d rung up Martha, just to say hello, and she’d decided to pop ‘round for a visit. They’d all been in the console room when he’d introduced them. “Rose, Martha. Martha, Rose,” he’d said. He’d been about to go on to some awkward, ice-breaking small-talk when the two women had grinned at each other.
And then they’d run to each other, and hugged, and squealed a bit, and bounced up and down, and talked over each other in some sort of fast, abbreviated girl-speak that he couldn't comprehend.
For a moment, he was afraid that the TARDIS, too, was in cahoots with them.
It wasn’t that he’d expected there to be a catfight for his honor. Not exactly, anyway. But he’d been gobsmacked when they’d told him they were going off to do some shopping and catch up on things.
“But you’ve only just met,” he’d said, when he’d regained the power of speech. It was too late, though. The door was already slamming behind them as they trotted off, hand-in-hand.
That wasn’t the worst of it, though. The worst--the absolute worst--was when he walked into the kitchen to find Rose and Donna giggling madly over tea. When he’d asked them what was so funny, they’d only laughed harder. Donna’s giggles turned into full-blown cackling, and Rose snorted so much that tea came out her nose.
And then, sagging against the kitchen counter, he knew it.
He knew it undeniably.
He knew it without a doubt.
He knew it to be the absolute, one hundred percent truth.
He was rather completely screwed.