It's Thoughts Like This
Written for kalleah's silly smut prompts, though I twisted them a bit. Requested by nightrider101.
The Doctor was strolling through one of the narrower corridors of the TARDIS, blissful in his ignorance of the discord his most precious passenger was feeling. But that wasn't unusual. I totally imagine Ten, hands in pockets, possibly whistling.
What was unusual was the sentence he overheard his passenger utter. Through the closed door to her suite of rooms (not that he made a habit of listening at doors... it just seemed to happen that he found himself outside of Rose's bedroom at that exact moment), he heard her say, "Well, if you must know, Shar, it hasn't been that long since I, as you so delicately put, 'got laid.'" No matter what he says, he so listens at Rose's door.
The Doctor backpedaled. Surely he hadn't heard her say what he just thought she'd said. Rose wasn't... Rose didn't... Rose'd never... he blinked. He was being foolish. Rose was a human, and humans were as humans did. And humans did have sex. Quite a lot, in fact, if his understanding of the species was accurate. And it was. Forrest Gump reference!! And yeah, I was trying to effect Ten's tendency to ramble.
But Rose... he... he and Rose... Well, there was no 'he and Rose,' was there? There was a he and there was a Rose, but he-and-Rose didn't exactly exist. But, well, whatever there was or wasn't, it didn't seem to him that Rose'd had much time to go off and... do that.
There was another voice, but it was lower and so garbled, he had to lean in a little closer... and a little closer... and just a little more... until he was pressing his ear to the door. He heard the tail end of a female's voice - Shar's voice - ask, "...was he like?"
It took such a long moment for Rose to respond that when she did, her voice sounded terribly close, and he jumped away, shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, and looked up at the ceiling intently as though inspecting it for cracks. This not-eavesdropping business was difficult.
Still, the door didn't open, and she answered, "He was nice to look at and all. Kind of handsome in an action hero sort of way, you know? He was a little older than me, but a shameless flirt. He didn't even know he was doing it half the time."
The Doctor lifted an eyebrow. Who was all those things? Was it... well she couldn't be talking about him, could she? He'd certainly only just regenerated, and sure, sometimes bits of memory didn't quite make it all the way across, but something that major? He couldn't have forgotten... could he? After all, the description was bang on; he had been a bit of a flirt in his previous incarnation, the sort who didn't know it, and really, he was quite handsome if he did say so himself. Maybe... had he? Had they? Leave it to him - Mr. Center of the Universe himself - to immediately think she's talking about him. *g*
He wondered if they had, what had it been like? After all, he'd passed the time with a few humans doing what they liked to do best in the past. If memory served, (which at this precise moment, it didn't) it had gone reasonably well. It certainly seemed to make them happy, and when his companions were happy, life seemed infinitely easier.
But with Rose? He imagined it would have been... better than all the best words he knew. He grinned, considering what her answer might be. Brilliant. Gorgeous. Perfect. Blissful. Amazing. Note he doesn't think to say "Fantastic."
"It was terrible."
The Doctor's smile fell and he gaped at the closed door. Had she just called it terrible? Terrible?
"I mean, he was complete rubbish. Being a, er, little older than me, I figured he'd have a lot of experience to bring to the table, but really? It was awful. I've had more orgasmic experiences washing my hair." So thinking of Herbal Essences!
"Well," giggled the other voice, "That shampoo you brought me from, where was it? Bangladesh?" Bangladesh is my favorite word. Period.
"Yeah, er, a little market there. Hard to find." It's clearly alien shampoo. Hee!
"It was pretty tingly."
Rose laughed. "Exactly. But even your basic shampoo from the grocery was better than this."
The Doctor folded his arms across his chest. Then he unfolded them. He decided he didn't like for them to dangle, so he stuffed them in his pockets.
"What'd you do?" Shar fairly shrieked.
"Well, what could I do?" Rose was now speaking through fits of laughter. The Doctor used to adore the sound; it was now grating on every nerve ending and making his skin flush hot and red.
She went on. "I just sort of laid there while he got on with it, then when I felt as though I couldn't take much more, I thrashed my head around, moaned rather a lot, told him he was the master of the universe or some other such rubbish, and hoped for it to be over." *sporfle* Oh, Rose.
Both Rose and her inquisitive friend were in gales while the Doctor stood fuming outside. Not only had he been with Rose, he'd botched it. If he hadn't been rooted to the spot, he'd have gone to the console room, gone back in his own personal time line, and punched himself in the face for being an absolute idiot. Or better yet, he'd march into her suite and make another go of it. His body was different, perhaps he would be... I think someone suggested I re-write it this way. Was it you, Sara? Hee!
Suddenly the laughter stopped, and the Doctor's hand fell away from the handle.
The Doctor heard the end of Shar's question. "...to him?"
"We sort of... well, Jack kind of stayed behind. I mean, he was not the best shag ever, but he was a wonderful man; I miss him and the, uh, er... John seems to miss him too." Oh, poor Jack. Though I disclaim - I'm sure Jack would be amazing in bed. *grin* And if he ever wants to prove it, well I won't say no.
The Doctor stood stock still, staring at the door. Jack and Rose, then? Not he and Rose, not at all. Well, that was a relief. At least, he thought it should have been.
Shar asked the question the Doctor had been half a heartbeat from wondering: "What about this John bloke? You talk about him quite a lot, but you've never said..."
What? What hadn't Rose said about John? The Doctor leaned forward as though he could coax an answer from her if he was just a bit nearer.
"He's just... we'll, he's the.. he's just John. I...er, we... we're close. But something happened recently, and he's not, er, himself."
"That happens, Ro-" There was a moment of quiet, and the Doctor feared Rose's call had been lost. It picked back up with, "...obby in our sixth year? We were all mates one minute, then the next, he wouldn't look at you?"
"Yeah, I remember. He threw a rock at me; it took a chunk out of my knee."
"Right. Then two years later, he asked you to go out with him." I was going to say that this Bobby kid asked her to prom, but apparently, they don't have such a thing in the UK.
"Well," Rose came back dryly, "This isn't the same thing."
The Doctor opened his mouth, then closed it once more. He supposed Rose was right. This wasn't the same thing at all.
As he pondered, he heard Rose say, "Shar? You still there?" There was a beat, and then she muttered, "Shit." It sounded quite close to the door, and before the Doctor could make a move, Rose had opened the door. She was holding her phone in one hand and she looked ready to stride purposefully in one direction or another until she saw the Doctor standing in the hall.Ha! Caught!
"Doctor?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. "Need something?"
"I, er, uh," he said, very unconvincingly.
Rose blinked up at him, seemed to consider for a moment, then flushed bright red. She opened her mouth to speak, but the Doctor cut her off.
"Uh, what do you think about Pompeii? I mean, maybe a month before the whole volcano thing, that is?" He didn't give her time to answer. "Good. Great. Wonderful. I'll just, er, just, um." He lifted a finger, turned on the spot, and beat a hasty retreat to the door of Rose's bedroom door being slammed shut.