(no subject)
Black Books, PG, Nine/Rose
They lost the Doctor’s special edition collected works of Austen in the most ridiculous way. Rose, he had quickly discovered, had what the Doctor labelled a ‘blatant disregard for canonic Earth literature’ and in between adventures was doing his best to educate her on Dickens, Ibsen, Wilde, and Adams (Douglas). Amongst others. 2,967
~*~
They lost the Doctor’s special edition collected works of Austen in the most ridiculous way. Rose, he had quickly discovered, had what the Doctor labelled a ‘blatant disregard for canonic Earth literature’ and in between adventures was doing his best to educate her on Dickens, Ibsen, Wilde, and Adams (Douglas). Amongst others.
And so they were floating serenely above the Baltic Sea in the TARDIS (because where else would you go to read Austen?) the two of them dangling their legs out the open door when the TARDIS pitched suddenly and Rose nearly fell out.
The heavy book fell instantly from the Doctor’s hands as he automatically snatched at something to hang onto and Rose because if she fell out of the TARDIS right now he didn’t want to think what might happen to her. Thankfully her first instinct was also to grab onto him and she wound up crouched awkwardly in his lap, clinging onto his neck like a monkey and her left leg windmilling as it tried to find some sort of purchase.
“Alright?” he asked and she nodded breathlessly against the side of his head, gripping tighter momentarily as the TARDIS lurched again, allowing them both a perfect view of the book as it fluttered out of reach. They watched until it disappeared, a speck lost to the waves and then Rose let out a sigh of relief.
“Well,” she said. “There goes Mr. Bingley.”
“Better him than you,” the Doctor said grimly, helping her to climb into the TARDIS so that he could shut the doors. The ship was still pitching gently - rocking really as she tried to right herself. After some creative climbing and a few dangerous jumps and leaps, the Doctor was back at the console and the TARDIS tipped up straight again.
Rose, halfway through her own awkward path up/across the console room, overbalanced and fell onto her arse with such force that she ended up doing an awkward backwards somersault across the grating. The Doctor stepped forward with an alarmed cry as she strayed dangerously close to the edge but Rose merely performed another backwards roll and landed neatly on her feet - cleverly tucking her legs in so she missed kicking the railing.
Momentarily stunned, the Doctor blinked as Rose brushed her fringe out of her face and then beamed proudly at him.
“Jericho Under 7’s Gymnastics team?” he guessed and she grinned even wider, if that was possible, clambering up onto the main level and bounding over to him as he began to set coordinates.
“Used to drive mum mad doing them up and down the hallway,” she informed him with no small amount of glee. “Cartwheels too, and handstands up against the walls. Took her ages to clean the marks off. We off again then?”
“Might as well get another copy while I’m thinkin’ about it,” he said and within minutes had piloted the TARDIS to...
“Are we in London?” Rose asked incredulously when they stepped out onto what was undoubtedly a London street.
“Bloomsbury,” the Doctor explained. “There’s a bloke owns a second hand bookstore just up here. Owes me a favour. Or a book.” He grinned, took her hand and Rose allowed herself to be led to a dingy little shop that looked like it could do with a decent coat of paint.
Idly peering at the cart of books arranged out the front as they walked past, Rose was too busy concentrating on reading the titles to notice when the Doctor steered her into a little alcove where the door was situated.
“S’closed,” Rose noted the sign but the Doctor just pushed open the door and strode straight on in. Looking back in consternation as the door swung shut, Rose noticed that the sign seemed to say ‘closed’ on both sides.
The first thing she noticed about the shop (aside from the general untidiness and haphazard piles of books) was the unmistakably scent of stale cigarette smoke and grog. It smelled like a pub - a dodgy pub she thought, wrinkling her nose. The Doctor seemed supremely unconcerned by his obviously unsavoury surroundings, merely striding up the back of the small shop to something that might possibly have been a desk.
“Hello Bernard,” the Doctor greeted the dark mop of hair and coat that was slumped over an array of books, empty bottles of wine and about a million post its. The lump however, didn’t move and Rose edged a little closer to the Doctor.
“Is he dead?” she whispered.
“Probably just unconscious,” the Doctor said unconcernedly before reaching out a hand to cuff the man across the back of the head. “Rise and shine Bernard!”
The man sprang up into a seated position like some sort of feral jack in the box - complete with a cigarette dangling from his lower lip.
“Gznuh?” he managed, blearily trying to focus on who had disturbed him and when he did, his eyes widened comically. “You!”
“Me,” the Doctor said pleasantly.
“The Doctor man!” Bernard pointed a shaking finger at him. He sounded enraged, and very Irish. Rose did her best to become invisible.
“That’s me. Hello!” the Doctor waved and then leant forward a little, all business. “I believe you owe me a favour Mr. Bernard Black?”
Mr. Bernard Black viciously scrubbed at his face for a moment and then offered the Doctor a sour look. “Do I? I don’t remember owing you a favour.”
“Probably too drunk to remember me saving your life...” the Doctor began dryly but Bernard’s attention had wavered and fixed upon Rose who was half hiding behind the Doctor’s shoulder.
“Oh.” he said in some surprise before adopting a leering expression. “Well hello there.”
“Rose,” she introduced herself. “Nice to...” she paused as he reached out for her hand. “...meet you.”
Cautiously, she extended her hand to him, waiting to see what the Doctor would do. Bernard might have been skeevy and smelt bad but he was obviously harmless enough as the Doctor allowed (albeit with much eye rolling) him to take her hand and kiss it. “Enchanté,” he slurred and Rose smiled and surreptitiously wiped her hand clean on her jeans. “So what d’you want then?” Bernard demanded, turning his attention back to the Doctor. “I’m a very busy man you know. Lots of customers to sell...books to. Or some such.”
He waved a hand and Rose glanced incredulously around the empty shop. Regardless, the Doctor seemed happy enough to cut to the chase.
“Lost my complete works of Austen in the Baltic,” he explained simply. “Don’t s’pose you’ve got one in stock?”
Bernard grumbled his way around the desk and began fumbling through the shelves, carelessly throwing books willy-nilly as he did so. The Doctor waited patiently, occasionally ducking a flying hardback. “What d’you want Austen for?” Bernard finally said crossly. “Rubbish books the lot of them.”
“Rose hasn’t read them,” the Doctor explained. “So I’m doing it for her.”
Bernard goggled at her. “You haven’t read Austen?!” he exclaimed, his hands flailing about as though he weren’t sure what to do with them.
Rose shrugged. “Not much of a reader.”
“Not much of a-?” Bernard seemed at a loss, frozen with his hands full of hardbacks. “Out of my shop!” he demanded, leaping forward as if to chase her outside. “Out! Out! I will not have un-readers in my bookshop!”
The Doctor took a step forward, face growing stormy but Rose held her ground, glancing down helplessly at the assorted hardbacks that Bernard seemed about to thrust upon her.
“Hang on,” she nodded down at the stack of books Bernard had piled into his arms. “Isn’t that it?”
Bernard glanced at them and started abruptly. “Oh. Austen. Collected works.” He seemed almost surprised as he dumped all of the books onto the nearest flat surface save the top one which he handed somewhat facetiously to the Doctor who in turn handed it (pointedly) to Rose.
“Guess we’ll be off then!” the Doctor said cheerfully but Rose had been examining the book and she held it up with a raised eyebrow. “Jane Austen Collected Works Volume Two?” she said loudly. “So where’s the first one then?”
The Doctor didn’t look altogether pleased at this and Bernard flailed his hands about again in agitation when he had the patented Oncoming Glare turned on him. “Well I don’t know!” he bleated. “Somewhere I suppose.”
The three of them had barely begun their hunt for the second book (well, the Doctor and Rose had. Bernard was busily trying to light a cigarette) when a dark haired woman came running into the shop, breathless with excitement.
“Is it him? Is he here? I heard that weird noise but there was this stupid woman who wouldn’t leave...” she froze at the sight of the Doctor and then, inexplicably, beamed. “Doctor.”
“Hullo Fran,” he smiled and awkwardly accepted a hug and kiss on the cheek from her. “Still next door then?”
“Oh yeah, yeah,” she stood back from him, arms crossed and nodding fervently. “Still selling stuff. You need more stuff? That’s usually what you come here for isn’t it?”
“Looking for a book,” he explained. “Lost my Austen collection over the Baltic Sea.”
Fran burst out into somewhat hysterical laughter, slapping the Doctor lightly on the arm. “Oh stop it!” she cackled and Rose glanced at her in alarm before making eye contact with the Doctor, who was clearly trying not to laugh.
“Found it!” Bernard said suddenly, triumphantly holding the book aloft before slamming it down onto his desk along with the other. “I need a drink.” He announced and pulled a bottle of wine seemingly out of thin air.
“You should join us!” Fran said in delight, not even waiting for an answer as she all but frogmarched the Doctor to the back of the shop. Bernard had already poured himself a glass and was onto a new cigarette. “Go on.”
The Doctor didn’t answer immediately, instead peering over into the corner where Rose was hastily re-shelving books. “Rose?” he called and Fran spun around, her face frozen when it fell upon the younger woman.
“Oh,” she said, clearly a little disappointed. “You’ve brought a friend. I thought you liked travelling alone.”
“Not anymore,” the Doctor said and Rose felt herself grow warm with pleasure at his words. “This is Rose Tyler.”
“Hello!” Fran said, disconcertingly bright now as she retrieved more glasses, sloshing three of them full of red wine and pressing two of them onto Rose and the Doctor respectively. “I’m Fran, I run the shop next door.”
She drew up a chair for herself as she spoke, somewhat carelessly leaving them to get their own as she focused on snagging Bernard’s lighter and a cigarette. This prompted some more grumbling from Bernard but he soon stopped when Fran biffed him on the head with a hardback. Rose giggled at that.
Maybe Fran wasn’t all that bad after all. A little odd maybe, but then so was the Doctor.
Despite the chain smoking, Rose soon discovered that Fran was much more pleasant company than the foul-mouthed Bernard. The older woman led most of the conversation, asking how Rose and the Doctor had met and Rose in turn asked how they knew the Doctor. Turned out that an alien beaver the Doctor had been chasing through London had gotten loose in the bookshop and he’d barely managed to save the majority of the semi-comatose Bernard’s stock.
He apparently did that a lot - drank himself stupid that is - and Rose couldn’t say she blamed him once she’d tried the wine. Accustomed to sharing pints of beer with Mickey she downed a glass of red quite easily and went back for seconds - much to Fran’s delight and Bernard’s consternation that he now had another person he had to share his grog with.
After her fourth glass however, when she began to get a little rowdy, the Doctor surreptitiously nicked her glass and she poked her tongue out at him. Leaning close, he assured her in confidential tones that she’d thank him for it. “Unless you want Bernard to try and make a pass at you I’d stop now before you get drunk enough to do something stupid like say yes.”
The Doctor, it transpired, knew the two of them quite well despite having never travelled with either of them. He had come past several times since rescuing Black Books from ruin, buying various trashy bits of merchandise from Fran to pillage for TARDIS parts and books from Bernard to expand his library.
“Always shows up when I don’t want him to,” Bernard groused but Fran ignored him.
“I must say it’s nice to see that Grumpy has finally found himself a good woman to take care of him,” she told Rose, nodding towards the Doctor as she opened their third bottle of wine. “He’s absolutely hopeless by himself.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes but Rose was secretly quite pleased as she giggled her agreement. “I’ll bet he is too,” she nodded towards Bernard. “Bet you keep him in line.”
Fran laughed then too, quickly lapsing into the hysterical cackling nonsense that she’d taken to before and Rose laughed just as hard, guffawing really. Bernard’s expression, once he realised he was the one being laughed at, immediately went from ‘mildly-sloshed’ to sour and cross. The Doctor didn’t really look much happier either.
“We’d best be off then,” he said abruptly, standing. “Take care you lot. Say hello to Manny for me.”
“Manny?” Fran repeated, still laughing. “Who on earth is Manny?”
The Doctor looked momentarily stymied and then seemed to realise something. “What year is it?”
“1999?” Fran provided although she didn’t look too convinced. “Bernard.” She elbowed him in the ribs, nearly resulting in him choking on his wine. “Bernard. Bernard.”
“What?” he demanded, spluttering slightly. “What?”
“What year is it?” Fran slurred.
“Eighty-seven.” He mumbled around a fag, eyes falling shut as he fumbled for the wine. “Go Fish.”
“Ah. My mistake.” The Doctor all but shoved the Austen collection on Rose’s person before dragging her out of the shop. “Bye then! See you again! Wrong time, they haven’t met him yet,” he added as they began to make their way back to the TARDIS. “Must’ve got the year wrong.”
“S’not like you,” Rose deadpanned and then grinned, leaning into his side a little as a conciliatory gesture when he shot a somewhat withering look at her. “Don’t worry. Least you got the right place yeah? Right century even.”
“Right decade even,” he corrected her, gently removing her hand when she tried to pull her TARDIS key out and unlock the door. Back inside the ship, he began to idly work the controls and Rose absently fingered the heavy covers and many pages of the Austen they had just procured.
“How come you never took them with you?” she asked curiously.
“A drunk Irishman, a hysterical middle aged woman and a Time Lord?” he shook his head at her, but he was smiling. “Sounds like the start of a bad joke.”
“Or the end of one,” Rose laughed but then paused contemplatively. “Shop girl and a Time Lord walk into a bar...” she began, a grin creeping onto her lips.
“Bookshop,” the Doctor corrected absently and she rolled her eyes.
“Fine. Shop girl and a Time Lord walk into a bookshop. Time Lord says...‘I need a new set of Austen’. Bookshop owner wants to know why. Time Lord says, ‘dropped mine into the Baltic Sea’. Bookshop guy wants to know how he managed to drop the book in the Baltic Sea. Shop girl says, ‘well it was either the book or me!’”
The Doctor eyed Rose bemusedly as she began to hoot with laughter at her own joke. “I think you’re drunker than I thought you were.”
“I think-I think your sense of humour is starting to rub off on me!” Rose managed between gasps of laughter. “Oh god...”
The Doctor waited patiently for her to finish and then offered quietly, “That’s not why I didn’t ask them.”
Rose wiped tears of mirth from her cheeks. “What?”
“Fran was right when she said I liked travelling alone.” He explained, pausing before looking up to meet her eyes. “I did back when I first met them. But not anymore.”
It was one of those rare moments that Rose absolutely treasured. When the Doctor let his guard down and said something unbearably sweet to her. And here she was, half drunk and blushing and unable to think of a decent response.
“Really?” she blurted, then cringed at herself and quickly tried to cover herself with the first thing she thought of. “Fancy some chips before we get back to Bingley and all that lot?” she held the books up hopefully and felt a rush of relief when the Doctor laughed.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Yeah.”
“Yeah to chips or yeah to...you know.” Rose found herself blushing even further and hoping that the green light from the time rotor would hide it.
“Yes. To both. Come on,” he bounded over as he spoke, reaching out a hand which she took unquestioningly. “Food might help sober you up a bit. There’s a good place just round the corner...”
In the end, they accidentally left their collected works of Austen on the table at the chippy in pursuit of a suspicious looking individual. When they returned later for the books, they were gone.
Twenty (relative) minutes earlier and a whole regeneration later, a man in pinstripes and his blonde companion marched right on into the same chippy, laid claim to their collected works of Austen and flew off to the Baltic Sea to finish Pride and Prejudice.
He’d always said he’d finish reading it to her one day.
They lost the Doctor’s special edition collected works of Austen in the most ridiculous way. Rose, he had quickly discovered, had what the Doctor labelled a ‘blatant disregard for canonic Earth literature’ and in between adventures was doing his best to educate her on Dickens, Ibsen, Wilde, and Adams (Douglas). Amongst others. 2,967
~*~
They lost the Doctor’s special edition collected works of Austen in the most ridiculous way. Rose, he had quickly discovered, had what the Doctor labelled a ‘blatant disregard for canonic Earth literature’ and in between adventures was doing his best to educate her on Dickens, Ibsen, Wilde, and Adams (Douglas). Amongst others.
And so they were floating serenely above the Baltic Sea in the TARDIS (because where else would you go to read Austen?) the two of them dangling their legs out the open door when the TARDIS pitched suddenly and Rose nearly fell out.
The heavy book fell instantly from the Doctor’s hands as he automatically snatched at something to hang onto and Rose because if she fell out of the TARDIS right now he didn’t want to think what might happen to her. Thankfully her first instinct was also to grab onto him and she wound up crouched awkwardly in his lap, clinging onto his neck like a monkey and her left leg windmilling as it tried to find some sort of purchase.
“Alright?” he asked and she nodded breathlessly against the side of his head, gripping tighter momentarily as the TARDIS lurched again, allowing them both a perfect view of the book as it fluttered out of reach. They watched until it disappeared, a speck lost to the waves and then Rose let out a sigh of relief.
“Well,” she said. “There goes Mr. Bingley.”
“Better him than you,” the Doctor said grimly, helping her to climb into the TARDIS so that he could shut the doors. The ship was still pitching gently - rocking really as she tried to right herself. After some creative climbing and a few dangerous jumps and leaps, the Doctor was back at the console and the TARDIS tipped up straight again.
Rose, halfway through her own awkward path up/across the console room, overbalanced and fell onto her arse with such force that she ended up doing an awkward backwards somersault across the grating. The Doctor stepped forward with an alarmed cry as she strayed dangerously close to the edge but Rose merely performed another backwards roll and landed neatly on her feet - cleverly tucking her legs in so she missed kicking the railing.
Momentarily stunned, the Doctor blinked as Rose brushed her fringe out of her face and then beamed proudly at him.
“Jericho Under 7’s Gymnastics team?” he guessed and she grinned even wider, if that was possible, clambering up onto the main level and bounding over to him as he began to set coordinates.
“Used to drive mum mad doing them up and down the hallway,” she informed him with no small amount of glee. “Cartwheels too, and handstands up against the walls. Took her ages to clean the marks off. We off again then?”
“Might as well get another copy while I’m thinkin’ about it,” he said and within minutes had piloted the TARDIS to...
“Are we in London?” Rose asked incredulously when they stepped out onto what was undoubtedly a London street.
“Bloomsbury,” the Doctor explained. “There’s a bloke owns a second hand bookstore just up here. Owes me a favour. Or a book.” He grinned, took her hand and Rose allowed herself to be led to a dingy little shop that looked like it could do with a decent coat of paint.
Idly peering at the cart of books arranged out the front as they walked past, Rose was too busy concentrating on reading the titles to notice when the Doctor steered her into a little alcove where the door was situated.
“S’closed,” Rose noted the sign but the Doctor just pushed open the door and strode straight on in. Looking back in consternation as the door swung shut, Rose noticed that the sign seemed to say ‘closed’ on both sides.
The first thing she noticed about the shop (aside from the general untidiness and haphazard piles of books) was the unmistakably scent of stale cigarette smoke and grog. It smelled like a pub - a dodgy pub she thought, wrinkling her nose. The Doctor seemed supremely unconcerned by his obviously unsavoury surroundings, merely striding up the back of the small shop to something that might possibly have been a desk.
“Hello Bernard,” the Doctor greeted the dark mop of hair and coat that was slumped over an array of books, empty bottles of wine and about a million post its. The lump however, didn’t move and Rose edged a little closer to the Doctor.
“Is he dead?” she whispered.
“Probably just unconscious,” the Doctor said unconcernedly before reaching out a hand to cuff the man across the back of the head. “Rise and shine Bernard!”
The man sprang up into a seated position like some sort of feral jack in the box - complete with a cigarette dangling from his lower lip.
“Gznuh?” he managed, blearily trying to focus on who had disturbed him and when he did, his eyes widened comically. “You!”
“Me,” the Doctor said pleasantly.
“The Doctor man!” Bernard pointed a shaking finger at him. He sounded enraged, and very Irish. Rose did her best to become invisible.
“That’s me. Hello!” the Doctor waved and then leant forward a little, all business. “I believe you owe me a favour Mr. Bernard Black?”
Mr. Bernard Black viciously scrubbed at his face for a moment and then offered the Doctor a sour look. “Do I? I don’t remember owing you a favour.”
“Probably too drunk to remember me saving your life...” the Doctor began dryly but Bernard’s attention had wavered and fixed upon Rose who was half hiding behind the Doctor’s shoulder.
“Oh.” he said in some surprise before adopting a leering expression. “Well hello there.”
“Rose,” she introduced herself. “Nice to...” she paused as he reached out for her hand. “...meet you.”
Cautiously, she extended her hand to him, waiting to see what the Doctor would do. Bernard might have been skeevy and smelt bad but he was obviously harmless enough as the Doctor allowed (albeit with much eye rolling) him to take her hand and kiss it. “Enchanté,” he slurred and Rose smiled and surreptitiously wiped her hand clean on her jeans. “So what d’you want then?” Bernard demanded, turning his attention back to the Doctor. “I’m a very busy man you know. Lots of customers to sell...books to. Or some such.”
He waved a hand and Rose glanced incredulously around the empty shop. Regardless, the Doctor seemed happy enough to cut to the chase.
“Lost my complete works of Austen in the Baltic,” he explained simply. “Don’t s’pose you’ve got one in stock?”
Bernard grumbled his way around the desk and began fumbling through the shelves, carelessly throwing books willy-nilly as he did so. The Doctor waited patiently, occasionally ducking a flying hardback. “What d’you want Austen for?” Bernard finally said crossly. “Rubbish books the lot of them.”
“Rose hasn’t read them,” the Doctor explained. “So I’m doing it for her.”
Bernard goggled at her. “You haven’t read Austen?!” he exclaimed, his hands flailing about as though he weren’t sure what to do with them.
Rose shrugged. “Not much of a reader.”
“Not much of a-?” Bernard seemed at a loss, frozen with his hands full of hardbacks. “Out of my shop!” he demanded, leaping forward as if to chase her outside. “Out! Out! I will not have un-readers in my bookshop!”
The Doctor took a step forward, face growing stormy but Rose held her ground, glancing down helplessly at the assorted hardbacks that Bernard seemed about to thrust upon her.
“Hang on,” she nodded down at the stack of books Bernard had piled into his arms. “Isn’t that it?”
Bernard glanced at them and started abruptly. “Oh. Austen. Collected works.” He seemed almost surprised as he dumped all of the books onto the nearest flat surface save the top one which he handed somewhat facetiously to the Doctor who in turn handed it (pointedly) to Rose.
“Guess we’ll be off then!” the Doctor said cheerfully but Rose had been examining the book and she held it up with a raised eyebrow. “Jane Austen Collected Works Volume Two?” she said loudly. “So where’s the first one then?”
The Doctor didn’t look altogether pleased at this and Bernard flailed his hands about again in agitation when he had the patented Oncoming Glare turned on him. “Well I don’t know!” he bleated. “Somewhere I suppose.”
The three of them had barely begun their hunt for the second book (well, the Doctor and Rose had. Bernard was busily trying to light a cigarette) when a dark haired woman came running into the shop, breathless with excitement.
“Is it him? Is he here? I heard that weird noise but there was this stupid woman who wouldn’t leave...” she froze at the sight of the Doctor and then, inexplicably, beamed. “Doctor.”
“Hullo Fran,” he smiled and awkwardly accepted a hug and kiss on the cheek from her. “Still next door then?”
“Oh yeah, yeah,” she stood back from him, arms crossed and nodding fervently. “Still selling stuff. You need more stuff? That’s usually what you come here for isn’t it?”
“Looking for a book,” he explained. “Lost my Austen collection over the Baltic Sea.”
Fran burst out into somewhat hysterical laughter, slapping the Doctor lightly on the arm. “Oh stop it!” she cackled and Rose glanced at her in alarm before making eye contact with the Doctor, who was clearly trying not to laugh.
“Found it!” Bernard said suddenly, triumphantly holding the book aloft before slamming it down onto his desk along with the other. “I need a drink.” He announced and pulled a bottle of wine seemingly out of thin air.
“You should join us!” Fran said in delight, not even waiting for an answer as she all but frogmarched the Doctor to the back of the shop. Bernard had already poured himself a glass and was onto a new cigarette. “Go on.”
The Doctor didn’t answer immediately, instead peering over into the corner where Rose was hastily re-shelving books. “Rose?” he called and Fran spun around, her face frozen when it fell upon the younger woman.
“Oh,” she said, clearly a little disappointed. “You’ve brought a friend. I thought you liked travelling alone.”
“Not anymore,” the Doctor said and Rose felt herself grow warm with pleasure at his words. “This is Rose Tyler.”
“Hello!” Fran said, disconcertingly bright now as she retrieved more glasses, sloshing three of them full of red wine and pressing two of them onto Rose and the Doctor respectively. “I’m Fran, I run the shop next door.”
She drew up a chair for herself as she spoke, somewhat carelessly leaving them to get their own as she focused on snagging Bernard’s lighter and a cigarette. This prompted some more grumbling from Bernard but he soon stopped when Fran biffed him on the head with a hardback. Rose giggled at that.
Maybe Fran wasn’t all that bad after all. A little odd maybe, but then so was the Doctor.
Despite the chain smoking, Rose soon discovered that Fran was much more pleasant company than the foul-mouthed Bernard. The older woman led most of the conversation, asking how Rose and the Doctor had met and Rose in turn asked how they knew the Doctor. Turned out that an alien beaver the Doctor had been chasing through London had gotten loose in the bookshop and he’d barely managed to save the majority of the semi-comatose Bernard’s stock.
He apparently did that a lot - drank himself stupid that is - and Rose couldn’t say she blamed him once she’d tried the wine. Accustomed to sharing pints of beer with Mickey she downed a glass of red quite easily and went back for seconds - much to Fran’s delight and Bernard’s consternation that he now had another person he had to share his grog with.
After her fourth glass however, when she began to get a little rowdy, the Doctor surreptitiously nicked her glass and she poked her tongue out at him. Leaning close, he assured her in confidential tones that she’d thank him for it. “Unless you want Bernard to try and make a pass at you I’d stop now before you get drunk enough to do something stupid like say yes.”
The Doctor, it transpired, knew the two of them quite well despite having never travelled with either of them. He had come past several times since rescuing Black Books from ruin, buying various trashy bits of merchandise from Fran to pillage for TARDIS parts and books from Bernard to expand his library.
“Always shows up when I don’t want him to,” Bernard groused but Fran ignored him.
“I must say it’s nice to see that Grumpy has finally found himself a good woman to take care of him,” she told Rose, nodding towards the Doctor as she opened their third bottle of wine. “He’s absolutely hopeless by himself.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes but Rose was secretly quite pleased as she giggled her agreement. “I’ll bet he is too,” she nodded towards Bernard. “Bet you keep him in line.”
Fran laughed then too, quickly lapsing into the hysterical cackling nonsense that she’d taken to before and Rose laughed just as hard, guffawing really. Bernard’s expression, once he realised he was the one being laughed at, immediately went from ‘mildly-sloshed’ to sour and cross. The Doctor didn’t really look much happier either.
“We’d best be off then,” he said abruptly, standing. “Take care you lot. Say hello to Manny for me.”
“Manny?” Fran repeated, still laughing. “Who on earth is Manny?”
The Doctor looked momentarily stymied and then seemed to realise something. “What year is it?”
“1999?” Fran provided although she didn’t look too convinced. “Bernard.” She elbowed him in the ribs, nearly resulting in him choking on his wine. “Bernard. Bernard.”
“What?” he demanded, spluttering slightly. “What?”
“What year is it?” Fran slurred.
“Eighty-seven.” He mumbled around a fag, eyes falling shut as he fumbled for the wine. “Go Fish.”
“Ah. My mistake.” The Doctor all but shoved the Austen collection on Rose’s person before dragging her out of the shop. “Bye then! See you again! Wrong time, they haven’t met him yet,” he added as they began to make their way back to the TARDIS. “Must’ve got the year wrong.”
“S’not like you,” Rose deadpanned and then grinned, leaning into his side a little as a conciliatory gesture when he shot a somewhat withering look at her. “Don’t worry. Least you got the right place yeah? Right century even.”
“Right decade even,” he corrected her, gently removing her hand when she tried to pull her TARDIS key out and unlock the door. Back inside the ship, he began to idly work the controls and Rose absently fingered the heavy covers and many pages of the Austen they had just procured.
“How come you never took them with you?” she asked curiously.
“A drunk Irishman, a hysterical middle aged woman and a Time Lord?” he shook his head at her, but he was smiling. “Sounds like the start of a bad joke.”
“Or the end of one,” Rose laughed but then paused contemplatively. “Shop girl and a Time Lord walk into a bar...” she began, a grin creeping onto her lips.
“Bookshop,” the Doctor corrected absently and she rolled her eyes.
“Fine. Shop girl and a Time Lord walk into a bookshop. Time Lord says...‘I need a new set of Austen’. Bookshop owner wants to know why. Time Lord says, ‘dropped mine into the Baltic Sea’. Bookshop guy wants to know how he managed to drop the book in the Baltic Sea. Shop girl says, ‘well it was either the book or me!’”
The Doctor eyed Rose bemusedly as she began to hoot with laughter at her own joke. “I think you’re drunker than I thought you were.”
“I think-I think your sense of humour is starting to rub off on me!” Rose managed between gasps of laughter. “Oh god...”
The Doctor waited patiently for her to finish and then offered quietly, “That’s not why I didn’t ask them.”
Rose wiped tears of mirth from her cheeks. “What?”
“Fran was right when she said I liked travelling alone.” He explained, pausing before looking up to meet her eyes. “I did back when I first met them. But not anymore.”
It was one of those rare moments that Rose absolutely treasured. When the Doctor let his guard down and said something unbearably sweet to her. And here she was, half drunk and blushing and unable to think of a decent response.
“Really?” she blurted, then cringed at herself and quickly tried to cover herself with the first thing she thought of. “Fancy some chips before we get back to Bingley and all that lot?” she held the books up hopefully and felt a rush of relief when the Doctor laughed.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Yeah.”
“Yeah to chips or yeah to...you know.” Rose found herself blushing even further and hoping that the green light from the time rotor would hide it.
“Yes. To both. Come on,” he bounded over as he spoke, reaching out a hand which she took unquestioningly. “Food might help sober you up a bit. There’s a good place just round the corner...”
In the end, they accidentally left their collected works of Austen on the table at the chippy in pursuit of a suspicious looking individual. When they returned later for the books, they were gone.
Twenty (relative) minutes earlier and a whole regeneration later, a man in pinstripes and his blonde companion marched right on into the same chippy, laid claim to their collected works of Austen and flew off to the Baltic Sea to finish Pride and Prejudice.
He’d always said he’d finish reading it to her one day.