Malaise - a WOTD Fic - Established Ten/Rose, T-rated
malaise \muh-LAYZ; -LEZ\, noun:
1. A vague feeling of discomfort in the body, as at the onset of illness.
2. A general feeling of depression or unease.
Author’s note. This is totally self indulgent and *I don’t care*. Any woman will understand…
“Wakey wakey, rise and shine!”
“Bog off, Doctor.”
The Doctor peeked his head around Rose’s door: he knew that tone.
“Ah. That time of the month, is it?”
Rose scowled from the bed. “’Course it is. I’ve been hormonal all week, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
The Doctor looked embarrassed. “Well, yes, I had noticed you were a little…touchy.”
She sat up with a huff. “Women have this.” She frowned, “well human women anyway,” she conceded, before setting her face back into her ‘all personages of the male gender have questionable parentage’ look.
The Doctor stepped into her room, arms wide as if his companion was pointing a particularly nasty gun in his direction. “I know, Rose, I know. Remember,” he said with a slight smile, “I’ve been travelling with human women for centuries.”
Rose’s scowl got even darker. “And why are you reminding me of this now…?”
The Doctor actually looked alarmed. “Good point.” He muttered under his breath. “Should have remembered that, silly, Doctor, very silly.” He turned back to Rose and flashed a smile. “Tell you what,” he strode forward and plopped down on her bed, “my gorgeous, uniquely special Rose,” he trilled the ‘R’ of her name, “we shall have a day off today. The Metebelian Rebellions of the Third Millennium can wait ‘till tomorrow. Let’s,” he leaned closer, “have a day of complete pleasure.”
Rose’s eyebrow quirked. “What have you got in mind?”
And so it was that after soaking in the Tardis hot tub, a breakfast of fresh fruits and an exquisite massage, Rose flopped down on a sofa with a big pile of chocolate, and an even bigger hot water bottle to watch the most girly films she could think of. The Doctor, she realised, obviously, thought that he owed her after all the running around they’d been doing lately. Either that or he just wanted to earn brownie points for whatever misadventure he had planned for them next.
After watching ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ for the umpteenth time, and a DVD she’d found hidden in one of Jack’s old stacks called ‘Zorro Unmasked’, an 18 certificate film with Antonio Banderas finding a *very* imaginative use for Zorro’s disguise, she wrapped herself up in the duvet she’d been lounging on and wandered back to the Tardis’ console room.
There she found the Doctor trying to look busy and not a little sheepish. She leaned against a girder and gave him The Look.
“Do I want to know?”
The Doctor looked at her, eyes pleading, grease staining his uncovered and partly unbuttoned shirt, tie askew. “Rose, talk to the Tardis, please?” There was a note of desperation in his voice that she hadn’t heard since the Planet of a Thousand Maidens Incident. “She’s decided that it’s *her* ‘time of the millennium’. I’ve never had to deal with a hormonal Tardis before.”
Rose couldn’t help giggling. “Well just do what you do for me,” she said with a broad smile, discomfort forgotten. She slunk over to the Doctor leaning against the console and cuddled up. “Lots of TLC.” She looked up at the Timelord, who was looking at her with his patented ‘I can’t believe what you just said’ look. “And, you might find she’d appreciate a bedtime story,” she leaned in for a kiss. “I know I would.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes and began to gently rub her back, “and tomorrow the Metebelian Rebellions?” he asked.
The Tardis gave a shudder. He looked up at his beloved machine. “Only if you’re feeling up to it, old girl,” he said soothingly. “I know I have to take care of the ladies in my life.”
Fin
1. A vague feeling of discomfort in the body, as at the onset of illness.
2. A general feeling of depression or unease.
Author’s note. This is totally self indulgent and *I don’t care*. Any woman will understand…
“Wakey wakey, rise and shine!”
“Bog off, Doctor.”
The Doctor peeked his head around Rose’s door: he knew that tone.
“Ah. That time of the month, is it?”
Rose scowled from the bed. “’Course it is. I’ve been hormonal all week, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
The Doctor looked embarrassed. “Well, yes, I had noticed you were a little…touchy.”
She sat up with a huff. “Women have this.” She frowned, “well human women anyway,” she conceded, before setting her face back into her ‘all personages of the male gender have questionable parentage’ look.
The Doctor stepped into her room, arms wide as if his companion was pointing a particularly nasty gun in his direction. “I know, Rose, I know. Remember,” he said with a slight smile, “I’ve been travelling with human women for centuries.”
Rose’s scowl got even darker. “And why are you reminding me of this now…?”
The Doctor actually looked alarmed. “Good point.” He muttered under his breath. “Should have remembered that, silly, Doctor, very silly.” He turned back to Rose and flashed a smile. “Tell you what,” he strode forward and plopped down on her bed, “my gorgeous, uniquely special Rose,” he trilled the ‘R’ of her name, “we shall have a day off today. The Metebelian Rebellions of the Third Millennium can wait ‘till tomorrow. Let’s,” he leaned closer, “have a day of complete pleasure.”
Rose’s eyebrow quirked. “What have you got in mind?”
And so it was that after soaking in the Tardis hot tub, a breakfast of fresh fruits and an exquisite massage, Rose flopped down on a sofa with a big pile of chocolate, and an even bigger hot water bottle to watch the most girly films she could think of. The Doctor, she realised, obviously, thought that he owed her after all the running around they’d been doing lately. Either that or he just wanted to earn brownie points for whatever misadventure he had planned for them next.
After watching ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ for the umpteenth time, and a DVD she’d found hidden in one of Jack’s old stacks called ‘Zorro Unmasked’, an 18 certificate film with Antonio Banderas finding a *very* imaginative use for Zorro’s disguise, she wrapped herself up in the duvet she’d been lounging on and wandered back to the Tardis’ console room.
There she found the Doctor trying to look busy and not a little sheepish. She leaned against a girder and gave him The Look.
“Do I want to know?”
The Doctor looked at her, eyes pleading, grease staining his uncovered and partly unbuttoned shirt, tie askew. “Rose, talk to the Tardis, please?” There was a note of desperation in his voice that she hadn’t heard since the Planet of a Thousand Maidens Incident. “She’s decided that it’s *her* ‘time of the millennium’. I’ve never had to deal with a hormonal Tardis before.”
Rose couldn’t help giggling. “Well just do what you do for me,” she said with a broad smile, discomfort forgotten. She slunk over to the Doctor leaning against the console and cuddled up. “Lots of TLC.” She looked up at the Timelord, who was looking at her with his patented ‘I can’t believe what you just said’ look. “And, you might find she’d appreciate a bedtime story,” she leaned in for a kiss. “I know I would.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes and began to gently rub her back, “and tomorrow the Metebelian Rebellions?” he asked.
The Tardis gave a shudder. He looked up at his beloved machine. “Only if you’re feeling up to it, old girl,” he said soothingly. “I know I have to take care of the ladies in my life.”
Fin