Sandwiches
Author's Note: This takes place sometime between New Earth and Idiot's Lantern.
She was having her menses again, and it was driving him to distraction. This new body, so in tune with her chemistry, bubbled and churned in response to her. Why did humans have to be so … so … base? So animal?
The Doctor sighed. It was what made them so fantastically, brilliantly alive. Couldn’t have one without the other. Other species might have sharper senses, but humans took such special delight in experiencing their world.
The Tardis hummed at him in that particular way that let him know Rose was awake. He waited a bit, fiddling with a new component design, giving her space to wake up over those first few sips of tea. It had only taken him three menstrual cycles to learn that.
When he sauntered into the galley, she was just turning from the counter with her cup, still dressed in what he thought of as her comfy jimjams, blowing across the top of the tea. Her eyes lit just a bit at the sight of him. Oh, well, that was promising!
She took a step forward and banged into a chair. Her arms splayed out, the tea cup spinning right across the room, and, completely missing her grab at the table, she slid in the spilled tea and fell, feet tangled in the chair, flat on her arse.
“FUCK!”
The Doctor stood, eyes wide, one hand still outstretched in an ineffectual attempt at assistance. He watched as deep red suffused up Rose’s neck and across her face. Her eyes met his and narrowed. Laugh, and you’re a dead man.
Mentally tsking, the Doctor stepped forward briskly. “Don’t move, Rose.” He kept his voice steady and business-like. “A fall like that can be more serious than it looks. Here now, slowly, hmm? Take my hand.” He put one arm around her waist as she stood. “Still a bit wobbly? Here’s the chair. Nice and easy, now.” He helped ease her into the chair and turned away, giving her time to draw her composure around herself. Careful of the wet floor, he stepped across the galley and picked up the broken pieces of tea cup.
“’M mum gave me that tea cup when I was sixteen.”
He cradled the pieces. Damn. Carefully, he set them on the counter. When he turned back, her eyes were downcast and her bottom lip was trembling. “I could … perhaps … fix it?”
She shook her head and a tear plopped onto her lap. With a low moan, she turned her head away. “’S just a stupid cup.” She stood up slowly, one hand braced on the table, still not looking at him. “Think I’ll go back to bed for a bit,” she muttered. “I’m not feelin’ so hot.”
“Would you like some medication? I have, ah, something for cramps, I think.”
Rose stopped but didn’t turn. What? Did he say something wrong? What could be wrong, now? She turned slightly, peeking at him over her shoulder. Her face was blushing again. He kept his features neutral, but groaned inside. What?
“I … that’s nice of … but, I have some stuff.” Another tear slipped down her cheek. Shaking her head, she turned, groaned “fuck,” and made her way stiffly out of the galley.
Rose rolled and rubbed her hand down her bum. She hadn’t looked yet, but she was sure there’d be a bruise. She grabbed a pillow and curled around it, her palm moving from her bum to her belly. Hot bath? she thought toward the Tardis. Something like agreement hummed in her head, and Rose sighed, her fingers digging lightly into her belly.
Her thoughts skittered to the Doctor and she felt her face go pink again. Blow it! Wincing, she brought her hand up and rubbed her forehead. I’m not going to be able to look at him for a week. Falling arse over teakettle, crying over a silly cup, and then … oooh. Maybe it was because she hadn’t grown up with a dad or brothers.
She realized suddenly how very good he’d been about the … incident. He hadn’t been silly or embarrassed; he hadn’t laughed or tried to make a joke of it. Rose chewed on her lip. Sometimes he could be such a prat, and then there were those times when he was just so … right.
The Doctor flicked the sonic screwdriver off and eyed the cup. That should do it. The lines where it’d been broken were still visible, but that was on purpose. He liked it when objects showed their history. He set the cup on the counter where she would see it.
Neither of them had eaten any breakfast. He gave the Tardis a mental nudge, a flash of Rose and a question mark.
In return, he got a full sensory explosion of Rose, in the bath - hot water and silky pink skin, and the scent of Rose in the steamy air. The Doctor’s eyes widened in shock and he slammed down his mental barriers, but not before he felt the Tardis’ amusement.
“Oi! That’s enough of that!” Annoyed, he stomped off to the library. “Old busy-body,” he muttered darkly.
The library was lit as if sunlight was pouring through long, high windows, and he could smell a bit of spring in the air. He stood in the door and took a deep breath. It was lovely. Making up? he thought to her. Low and sweet, she hummed back at him. He paused, laying a hand on the door frame. Alright. He leaned there for a moment. Let me know when she gets out? Rubbing his hand along the frame, the Doctor sent his own song of love to her. It’s alright. He sighed and leaned his head against her. I’m not really angry. It’s alright.
Dressed in trackie bums and an oversized tee, Rose sat in the middle of her bed, combing her hair. Her stomach growled. Right, then, nothing for it. It was bloody crazy that she should starve herself over embarrassment. Insane. She was getting up right now and heading to the kitchen to get a bite. Getting up. Right now.
A knock sounded on her door. Rose froze, mid getting-up.
“Rose?” The Doctor’s voice, even muffled by the door, sounded hesitant. “I … ah … I was hungry, so I made some sandwiches. I have a tray here, if you’d like.”
Rose blinked, nose burning and eyes suddenly misting. Oh, get a grip, girl!
There was a sound that she knew was the scuffing of a plimsoll against the decking, impatient. That made her grin. Silly, wonderful alien git. She pinched her nose sharply. “Come in! I’m starved.”
The door swung open and he stood there, head cocked a bit, studying her. Rose lifted her chin and he broke out into a sunny smile. “Oh,” he nodded, “that’s better then.” He set the tray down on her bureau. There was a little vase on the tray crammed artlessly with a handful of daisies.
The Doctor handed her a plate and took his own, sitting companionably on her bed, back propped against the wall. He took a bite of sandwich and smiled at her with his eyes, toes swinging and tapping together.
Rose took a bite of her sandwich and a giggle escaped. Silly, wonderful alien git.
“Good?” His eyebrows were raised.
She chewed and nodded, her mouthful giving her time to study him. Satisfaction, very pleased satisfaction, curiosity, always, and questions within questions. She swallowed. “Good. Yes.” She searched his eyes and saw recognition there. Sighing, she let her eyes fall closed as she took another bite.
FIN