Rapture Cubed
Title: Rapture Cubed
Series: Rapture
Characters/Pairing: 10/Rose and a myriad of others
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: Not mine. Well, apart from the bits that don't belong to the BBC.
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: Sequel to Waddling Rapture. Living a life is hard when you are very very pregnant - thank heavens for friends, old and new.
One.
The TARDIS landed in the corner of the Tyler family’s lounge, on the blue rug that was positioned there for the specific purpose of saving the new carpet. If the Doctor felt as if he was navigating for the equivalent of a doily, he held his peace and merely nudged Rose smugly at the evidence of his precision driving. Rose patted the ship affectionately as she moved through its doors.
‘Mum, we’re here.’
Jackie appeared in the doorway, clutching two mugs of tea.
‘Hardly gonna miss that, was I?’ she huffed, popping the mugs on the coffee table and opening her arms for a hug.
‘You’ve grown,’ she commented as she released her daughter, eyeing the sizeable bump that filled the space between them. Rose grimaced in acknowledgment, her hand rubbing back and forward beneath her breasts, only to grin as Jackie made for the Doctor, who was trying to sneak past her intended hug and claim his cuppa. ‘Oh no you don’t, come ‘ere you lovely man you!’
The Doctor yelped and Rose giggled as she subsided awkwardly onto the sofa, resting her hand against the sofa back and lowering herself gingerly onto the firmly cushioned seat. She had over a two months of pregnancy still before her, but she was at a loss to imagine how she could possibly get any bigger. It was just as well she was on virtual bedrest because moving left her winded and once she was seated getting up was a feat of epic proportions - a bit like her belly. She shifted against the cushions, trying to alleviate the ache already burgeoning in the small of her back. Wriggling awkwardly, she managed to find a position of relative comfort and sighed, resting her hands on top of her impossible bump and wincing as the child within kicked her soundly in the kidney for her trouble.
As she smoothed one palm down the sweep of her stomach, trying to soothe her active baby, the Doctor joined her, looking like a whipped puppy and snuggling as close to her as he could manage without actually sitting on her. One of his hands joined hers, cradling her heavy belly, while his other gripped his tea like a ward against evil, or, in this case, sort of mother-in-laws.
Jackie smirked. Rose shot her a quelling look, resting her head against the Doctor’s shoulder, unutterably weary. Sensing her exhaustion, the Doctor put his cup down and moved to support her more fully, easing her round so that her back rested against him. Rose smiled her appreciation, before turning her gaze back to her mother.
‘Dad not in?’ Rose asked tiredly.
Jackie shook her head and handed Rose her cup of tea.
‘Him and Mickey are still putting in the hours at Torchwood.’
Rose looked at her mum almost shyly. ‘What about…’
‘Jumping Jack Flash? He’ll be here in a moment. Rang him as soon as I heard you coming, didn’t I?’
Rose couldn’t contain her broad, delighted, grin.
‘Anyway, I’m just nipping down the shop to get some milk, and maybe some of those biscuits Jack likes.’
Rose smirked as her mum waggled her fingers in goodbye and grabbed her handbag. Jackie Tyler liked to give the impression that she did not approve of Captain ‘more flash than Kodak’ Jack Harkness, although Rose suspected that actually she was rather impressed. And more than a little bit attracted.
When Mickey’s Christmas ‘date’ had turned out to be Jack, one time Time-Agent, lapsed con-man and, it turned out, now immortal Torchwood crime fighter extraordinaire, Rose had nearly been shocked into premature labour. Well, according to the Doctor, at any rate, who’d glowered and muttered about Jack being ‘wrong’, and had fussed around Rose like a mother hen. Rose, meanwhile, had dissolved into hormonal tears, clutching frantically at the lapels of Jack’s great coat while hysterically wondering why he wasn’t dead. Some rather awkward explanations had followed.
After being slapped by both Donna and Jackie, then by Donna again, because Rose was supposed to be resting and therefore could not hit him herself, the Doctor apologised. Jack had snogged him by way of an acceptance and Christmas resumed. Rose had spent most of the rest of the day cradled in Jack’s lap, delighting in all his tall stories and sharing a few of her own, while Jack marvelled at her bump and held onto her like a starving man finally granted sustenance. Even the Doctor, normally so tense about Rose’s condition he virtually hummed like a taut wire, had relaxed and joined in the story telling.
Jack had flirted with Donna, of course, his charm not in the least dimmed by the presence of a seriously pregnant woman in his lap. Donna, however, had simply snorted at him and told him in no uncertain terms that, unless he wanted to be permanently disarmed, he’d better keep his weapon holstered around her. Rose had laughed so hard she’d nearly wet herself.
Mickey, meanwhile, had stood by, looking like the cat who’d got the cream, safe in the knowledge that the Doctor was never going to be able to top his Christmas present for Rose. It had been, all in all, a perfect day. A perfect day nearly destroyed when Jack declined the offer to rejoin the TARDIS. Only after promising, on his libido, to visit frequently, had Rose been prepared to relinquish him. They hadn’t seen Jack since and Rose missed him terribly, a fact exacerbated by her unspeakable boredom at having to spend so much time in bed, or otherwise resting. The final stages of pregnancy were driving her slowly insane - she was exhausted, uncomfortable and unwieldy and if she didn’t pop soon she was going to throttle someone. Someone called the Doctor whose ‘impressive’ sperm and sentient penis were so not coming near her again! Ever.
She shot a glare over her shoulder at said Doctor, and he blinked in surprise, thoroughly confused about why the delightful, gorgeous, love of his life should be looking at him like that when he was so tenderly rubbing her back and easing her aches and pains.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘I am never sleeping with you again,’ Rose informed him darkly.
‘Finally, she’d realised that nothing is as good as Captain Jack, not even a Time Lord!’
‘Jack!’
Rose beamed as the Captain strode across the small lounge and swooped down for a snog. The Doctor cleared his throat loudly and, reluctantly, Jack limited himself to a hello kiss.
‘Don’t sulk,’ Jack said smoothly, ‘I’ll get to you in a minute!’
The Doctor rolled his eyes and grimaced with exaggerated horror, secretly delighted to see Rose so animated - the pregnancy was draining her resources seriously now and, while he could see to her diet and deal with the majority of the physical demands, the mental stress of boredom and discomfort were getting her down. Jack was a welcome source of distraction and, now he was used to him, not too grating on his Time sense.
If he was honest, he’d missed the ex Time Agent. He did not regret running from him, in the midst of his impending regeneration. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Rose that there was work for Jack to do. It might have been a half-truth, but there had been much the Captain needed to achieve, much he needed to set in motion, and he needed to do it alone. Rose wouldn’t have understood. To be fair, the lie in the depths of the truth would have justified her displeasure - they could have gone back for him, jumped forward just enough. But Jack was wrong, and Rose was pregnant, and he’d… he’d been a coward.
They’d made their peace - of sorts. Jack was wary and Rose was hurt but, in the end, they were Team TARDIS and, while they might bend, nothing could break them. It might take time, but the papered over fractures would truly mend. In the meantime, he would have to endure the subtle confederacy to needle him that Rose and Jack had forged.
‘You call it Bob?’
Jack’s explosive laugh shocked the Doctor from his reverie. What? Wait!
‘Bob?’
Oh Rassilon!
With alacrity, the Doctor shot off the sofa, muttering about tea. Jack’s delighted, thoroughly dirty, laugh pursued him relentlessly as, for the first time in his incredibly long life, the Doctor found himself desperately seeking Jackie.
Chapter Two
Series: Rapture
Characters/Pairing: 10/Rose and a myriad of others
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: Not mine. Well, apart from the bits that don't belong to the BBC.
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: Sequel to Waddling Rapture. Living a life is hard when you are very very pregnant - thank heavens for friends, old and new.
One.
The TARDIS landed in the corner of the Tyler family’s lounge, on the blue rug that was positioned there for the specific purpose of saving the new carpet. If the Doctor felt as if he was navigating for the equivalent of a doily, he held his peace and merely nudged Rose smugly at the evidence of his precision driving. Rose patted the ship affectionately as she moved through its doors.
‘Mum, we’re here.’
Jackie appeared in the doorway, clutching two mugs of tea.
‘Hardly gonna miss that, was I?’ she huffed, popping the mugs on the coffee table and opening her arms for a hug.
‘You’ve grown,’ she commented as she released her daughter, eyeing the sizeable bump that filled the space between them. Rose grimaced in acknowledgment, her hand rubbing back and forward beneath her breasts, only to grin as Jackie made for the Doctor, who was trying to sneak past her intended hug and claim his cuppa. ‘Oh no you don’t, come ‘ere you lovely man you!’
The Doctor yelped and Rose giggled as she subsided awkwardly onto the sofa, resting her hand against the sofa back and lowering herself gingerly onto the firmly cushioned seat. She had over a two months of pregnancy still before her, but she was at a loss to imagine how she could possibly get any bigger. It was just as well she was on virtual bedrest because moving left her winded and once she was seated getting up was a feat of epic proportions - a bit like her belly. She shifted against the cushions, trying to alleviate the ache already burgeoning in the small of her back. Wriggling awkwardly, she managed to find a position of relative comfort and sighed, resting her hands on top of her impossible bump and wincing as the child within kicked her soundly in the kidney for her trouble.
As she smoothed one palm down the sweep of her stomach, trying to soothe her active baby, the Doctor joined her, looking like a whipped puppy and snuggling as close to her as he could manage without actually sitting on her. One of his hands joined hers, cradling her heavy belly, while his other gripped his tea like a ward against evil, or, in this case, sort of mother-in-laws.
Jackie smirked. Rose shot her a quelling look, resting her head against the Doctor’s shoulder, unutterably weary. Sensing her exhaustion, the Doctor put his cup down and moved to support her more fully, easing her round so that her back rested against him. Rose smiled her appreciation, before turning her gaze back to her mother.
‘Dad not in?’ Rose asked tiredly.
Jackie shook her head and handed Rose her cup of tea.
‘Him and Mickey are still putting in the hours at Torchwood.’
Rose looked at her mum almost shyly. ‘What about…’
‘Jumping Jack Flash? He’ll be here in a moment. Rang him as soon as I heard you coming, didn’t I?’
Rose couldn’t contain her broad, delighted, grin.
‘Anyway, I’m just nipping down the shop to get some milk, and maybe some of those biscuits Jack likes.’
Rose smirked as her mum waggled her fingers in goodbye and grabbed her handbag. Jackie Tyler liked to give the impression that she did not approve of Captain ‘more flash than Kodak’ Jack Harkness, although Rose suspected that actually she was rather impressed. And more than a little bit attracted.
When Mickey’s Christmas ‘date’ had turned out to be Jack, one time Time-Agent, lapsed con-man and, it turned out, now immortal Torchwood crime fighter extraordinaire, Rose had nearly been shocked into premature labour. Well, according to the Doctor, at any rate, who’d glowered and muttered about Jack being ‘wrong’, and had fussed around Rose like a mother hen. Rose, meanwhile, had dissolved into hormonal tears, clutching frantically at the lapels of Jack’s great coat while hysterically wondering why he wasn’t dead. Some rather awkward explanations had followed.
After being slapped by both Donna and Jackie, then by Donna again, because Rose was supposed to be resting and therefore could not hit him herself, the Doctor apologised. Jack had snogged him by way of an acceptance and Christmas resumed. Rose had spent most of the rest of the day cradled in Jack’s lap, delighting in all his tall stories and sharing a few of her own, while Jack marvelled at her bump and held onto her like a starving man finally granted sustenance. Even the Doctor, normally so tense about Rose’s condition he virtually hummed like a taut wire, had relaxed and joined in the story telling.
Jack had flirted with Donna, of course, his charm not in the least dimmed by the presence of a seriously pregnant woman in his lap. Donna, however, had simply snorted at him and told him in no uncertain terms that, unless he wanted to be permanently disarmed, he’d better keep his weapon holstered around her. Rose had laughed so hard she’d nearly wet herself.
Mickey, meanwhile, had stood by, looking like the cat who’d got the cream, safe in the knowledge that the Doctor was never going to be able to top his Christmas present for Rose. It had been, all in all, a perfect day. A perfect day nearly destroyed when Jack declined the offer to rejoin the TARDIS. Only after promising, on his libido, to visit frequently, had Rose been prepared to relinquish him. They hadn’t seen Jack since and Rose missed him terribly, a fact exacerbated by her unspeakable boredom at having to spend so much time in bed, or otherwise resting. The final stages of pregnancy were driving her slowly insane - she was exhausted, uncomfortable and unwieldy and if she didn’t pop soon she was going to throttle someone. Someone called the Doctor whose ‘impressive’ sperm and sentient penis were so not coming near her again! Ever.
She shot a glare over her shoulder at said Doctor, and he blinked in surprise, thoroughly confused about why the delightful, gorgeous, love of his life should be looking at him like that when he was so tenderly rubbing her back and easing her aches and pains.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘I am never sleeping with you again,’ Rose informed him darkly.
‘Finally, she’d realised that nothing is as good as Captain Jack, not even a Time Lord!’
‘Jack!’
Rose beamed as the Captain strode across the small lounge and swooped down for a snog. The Doctor cleared his throat loudly and, reluctantly, Jack limited himself to a hello kiss.
‘Don’t sulk,’ Jack said smoothly, ‘I’ll get to you in a minute!’
The Doctor rolled his eyes and grimaced with exaggerated horror, secretly delighted to see Rose so animated - the pregnancy was draining her resources seriously now and, while he could see to her diet and deal with the majority of the physical demands, the mental stress of boredom and discomfort were getting her down. Jack was a welcome source of distraction and, now he was used to him, not too grating on his Time sense.
If he was honest, he’d missed the ex Time Agent. He did not regret running from him, in the midst of his impending regeneration. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Rose that there was work for Jack to do. It might have been a half-truth, but there had been much the Captain needed to achieve, much he needed to set in motion, and he needed to do it alone. Rose wouldn’t have understood. To be fair, the lie in the depths of the truth would have justified her displeasure - they could have gone back for him, jumped forward just enough. But Jack was wrong, and Rose was pregnant, and he’d… he’d been a coward.
They’d made their peace - of sorts. Jack was wary and Rose was hurt but, in the end, they were Team TARDIS and, while they might bend, nothing could break them. It might take time, but the papered over fractures would truly mend. In the meantime, he would have to endure the subtle confederacy to needle him that Rose and Jack had forged.
‘You call it Bob?’
Jack’s explosive laugh shocked the Doctor from his reverie. What? Wait!
‘Bob?’
Oh Rassilon!
With alacrity, the Doctor shot off the sofa, muttering about tea. Jack’s delighted, thoroughly dirty, laugh pursued him relentlessly as, for the first time in his incredibly long life, the Doctor found himself desperately seeking Jackie.
Chapter Two