Domestic (for the Rose Gen Ficathon)
Story: Domestic
Author: Kiara Sayre
Rating: PG
Summary: Head injuries, Harry Potter, junk food, and adorable four-year-olds.
Notes: For voleuse for the Rose_lives Gen Ficathon. She requested Torchwood, Mickey, and babysitting, and no angst or character-bashing. I hope this fills those requirements. :D Thanks to chaya and emhen for the emergency beta.
The call comes around three-thirty in the afternoon. It’s a Thursday, the first of Mickey’s days off that he actually managed to stay off-duty since he started at Torchwood, and he fully intends to stay off-duty, no matter what the cost.
Which probably explains why he’s still wearing his pajama pants at two in the afternoon, but that’s irrelevant.
He’s fooled at first because it’s not on his work phone, but his personal cell, and only a few people have that number - Jake, Pete, Jackie, and Rose, along with a few close friends who like football as much as he does - so he figures answering can’t be too dangerous.
“Mickey,” says Rose when he answers, her voice tight, higher than usual. “I need a favor.”
“It’s my day off,” he says, or tries to; he doesn’t actually get the words out before Rose continues.
“There was this thing - I can’t really talk about it, but it’s work-related, and - well, they want to keep me overnight for observation in hospital only Mum and Dad are in Ireland for the week and I’ve got Suzy.”
“Hospital? What exactly happened?”
“It’s nothing, really, I just hurt my wrist and - ” There is the murmur of discussion from the other end of the phone, and Mickey has the distinct feeling he’s listening to this conversation filtered through Rose’s shoulder. “Okay, and maybe I hit my head, but I feel fine and I know we have a President and not a Prime Minister now but it’s not like they’re listening to me!” Her voice gets louder on the last few words, and Mickey winces, half because of the volume and half because he knows he can’t say no to a favor like this.
“Where is she?”
“What?”
“Suzy,” Mickey clarifies, a bit worried for the first time. “Your sister? Brown hair, green eyes, your dad’s convinced she’s Satan in a four-year-old?”
“I know who - ” Rose lets out a sound that could be a sigh or a growl. “Look. I’m fine. They just want to keep me overnight, I’ll be back in time tomorrow morning to get her off to school, and I really just need you to look after her tonight. You can even stay in my place - you’ve got the key and everything. But she can’t stay alone, she’s only four.”
“I know. Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it, I got it.”
“Thanks, Mickey,” Rose says, quietly this time. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
There are a few parking spots set aside for parents to pick their kids up at Suzy’s preschool. Mickey hesitates, but parks there anyway and goes inside.
The first thing he notices is the color scheme; all primaries, red and yellow and blue. Lots of geometric patterns, too, all helpfully labeled “Triangle” and “Square” in handwriting so neat it can’t possibly be human.
Suzy recognizes him right away, and from halfway across the room at that; he barely sees her before he finds his knees locked together by forty pounds of hugging, screeching four-year-old.
“Hey, Suz,” he says, tussling her hair - light brown and shoulder-length. Sometimes Mickey looks at her and expects to see Rose, but Suzy looks more like Pete and Rose never wore light-up trainers. “Lemme go, I gotta sign you out.”
“Where’s Rose? Rose was s’posed to get me. We were gonna watch Harry Potter.”
“She can’t make it today, so she asked me to get you. I’m watching you tonight. That okay?” He says it nonchalantly, because he knows Suzy’s listening more to his tone than his words; she nods against his thigh, and lets go.
One of the preschool teachers approaches him. “Excuse me, sir? Are you authorized to sign Suzette out?”
He nods. “Mickey Smith. I’m listed on her emergency forms. Something came up, and Rose couldn’t make it today.”
The teacher frowns, but fetches the clipboard anyway.
“What’d you do today?” Mickey asks after a moment, trying to play the authority figure. Suzy’s face lights up.
“At recess, we played monsters and aliens and I got to be Torchwood ‘cause Daddy works there and Jacob said monsters aren’t real so we made him be the monster and chased him and chased him until we killed him.”
Mickey frowns. “You killed Jacob?”
Suzy gives him a look that he had thought only Roes could give. “No, we killed the monster.”
“Oh,” says Mickey. It occurs to him, after a moment, that this is his chance to spoil Suzy rotten. (He refuses to admit that he’s wanted to do it for a while, as he feels it’s his right as her not-actually-but-close-enough uncle.) “D’you want pizza or Chinese for dinner?”
Suzy grins.
They spend most of the evening sitting on the carpet between the telly and couches watching Harry Potter movies, occasionally with foods Rose and Jackie and Pete would never let Suzy touch on a regular school night. Mickey makes sure none of the ice cream stains the carpet, and figures he can always deny involvement later.
It ends up being a marathon, because Suzy doesn’t have any homework and Mickey hasn’t watched these movies in years. They’re better than he remembers, and he can think of worse things to be doing on his day off than leaning against a couch, eating chocolate ice cream, and hugging his not-really-but-close-enough niece during the werewolf scene. And the Aragog scene. And that one scene with Quirrell, but only because that’s bloody creepy and Suzy gets scared easily.
The best part of the evening is Suzy herself; every now and then she’ll come up with some comment like, “Rose said that spiders only grow that big when they’re mutant aliens,” or “Rose told me Queen Victoria was a werewolf, but Miss Nina at school said she’s not but I think Rose is right.”
Sometimes Mickey wonders about what Rose tells her sister, and whether or not it’s good for her, but the Queen Victoria thing is so priceless he forgets to be worried because he’s laughing so hard.
They’re finishing the third movie when Suzy yawns so widely Mickey thinks her jaw’s going to pop off, and realizes it’s her bedtime.
“C’mon, Suz,” he says, turning off the telly, “time for bed. You got school tomorrow.”
Suzy’s so tired she doesn’t even resist, only nods. Mickey picks her up and carries her to her room to change into pyjamas, then herds her towards the sink to brush her teeth.
He gets a pretty good view of Rose’s apartment while he does, even though he’s already seen it before. The walls are the same white they were when Rose moved in, and the lived-in clutter is omnipresent, including Suzy’s toys. Suzy’s room is technically the guest room, and Mickey’s slept there once or twice, but most guest bedrooms aren’t furnished in pink and ponies and nobody’s fooled.
Pete and Jackie travel a lot, now - not a ridiculous amount, but once a month or so they leave London, and they can’t take Suzy with them during the school year. Mickey remembers that conversation, vaguely, and that Rose volunteered to watch her sister.
Suzy brushes her teeth by herself - God, how did she get this old this fast? - and Mickey takes her back to her room.
“D’you want me to read to you?” he asks uncertainly, when Suzy climbs underneath the fuzzy comforter.
“Can you tell me a story?” Suzy says. “Rose usually tells me a story.”
Mickey doesn’t have to ask what kind of story. He’s just told Suzy about finding pre-Revolutionary France on a spaceship three thousand years in the future when he hears the door to the apartment open.
“Y’know what? I’ll finish in a minute,” Mickey says, before leaning over and kissing Suzy on the forehead.
He finds Rose in the kitchen, making tea, and knocks on the doorframe so he doesn’t startle her.
“Hey,” she says, smiling. There’s a bandage on her forehead, traces of red coming through the gauze. “The hospital let me out early,” she continues smugly, “so I figured I’d let you off the hook. Tea?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Mickey joins her and takes out the sugar and cream. “What was it?” She looks at him questioningly, and he motions to her forehead.
“Oh, that,” she says, brushing a hand over it. “There was a Luxan down in Peet District. It thew me around a bit. Or tried to, anyway.” She hands him his tea with a smile. “And you? You got a day off, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but Jake still had work so I wasn’t doing anything anyway.”
“Still, I appreciate it.” Rose puts her tea down, her eyes focusing on the doorway. “Hey, Suz. I thought you were asleep.”
Suzy shakes her head. “Mickey didn’t finish the story.”
Rose glances at him, and he just smiles and shrugs sheepishly. She smiles faintly back, before getting on one knee in front of her sister. “Which story was he telling you?”
“About a spaceship and a fireplace.” Rose’s smile grows, and she flicks a bit of hair out of Suzy’s face.
Suzy pulls back and wrinkles her nose. “What happened?”
Rose touches her bandage again, and shakes her head. “I just got hurt. I’m fine, love. And lucky for you, I know the rest of the story Mickey was telling you.” She looks back at him again, and grins. “He’s probably telling it wrong, anyway. C’mon.”
Mickey lingers in the apartment, occasionally catching a snippet of what Rose is saying; he can hear Suzy’s laugh when Rose mentions the horse, and her gasp when the Doctor goes through the mirror. But the ending is a happy one, considering - nobody died, history wasn’t permanently rewritten or noticeably tampered with, and Rose conveniently doesn’t mention the Doctor going back through the fireplace and returning with a bit less spring in his step. Mickey wonders, vaguely, if that’s how Rose chooses to remember it, or just how she chooses to tell it.
Rose emerges sometime later, and he hands her a fresh cup of tea.
“So Suzy and I were on Goblet of Fire in our epic Harry Potter rewatch,” he mentions. “I wonder if Snape will seem like less of a ponce when you’ve got a head injury.”
Rose gives him a Look, but smiles back, and they settle down on her couch with tea as the movie starts.
All in all, Mickey thinks, not a bad way to spend a day off.
Author: Kiara Sayre
Rating: PG
Summary: Head injuries, Harry Potter, junk food, and adorable four-year-olds.
Notes: For voleuse for the Rose_lives Gen Ficathon. She requested Torchwood, Mickey, and babysitting, and no angst or character-bashing. I hope this fills those requirements. :D Thanks to chaya and emhen for the emergency beta.
The call comes around three-thirty in the afternoon. It’s a Thursday, the first of Mickey’s days off that he actually managed to stay off-duty since he started at Torchwood, and he fully intends to stay off-duty, no matter what the cost.
Which probably explains why he’s still wearing his pajama pants at two in the afternoon, but that’s irrelevant.
He’s fooled at first because it’s not on his work phone, but his personal cell, and only a few people have that number - Jake, Pete, Jackie, and Rose, along with a few close friends who like football as much as he does - so he figures answering can’t be too dangerous.
“Mickey,” says Rose when he answers, her voice tight, higher than usual. “I need a favor.”
“It’s my day off,” he says, or tries to; he doesn’t actually get the words out before Rose continues.
“There was this thing - I can’t really talk about it, but it’s work-related, and - well, they want to keep me overnight for observation in hospital only Mum and Dad are in Ireland for the week and I’ve got Suzy.”
“Hospital? What exactly happened?”
“It’s nothing, really, I just hurt my wrist and - ” There is the murmur of discussion from the other end of the phone, and Mickey has the distinct feeling he’s listening to this conversation filtered through Rose’s shoulder. “Okay, and maybe I hit my head, but I feel fine and I know we have a President and not a Prime Minister now but it’s not like they’re listening to me!” Her voice gets louder on the last few words, and Mickey winces, half because of the volume and half because he knows he can’t say no to a favor like this.
“Where is she?”
“What?”
“Suzy,” Mickey clarifies, a bit worried for the first time. “Your sister? Brown hair, green eyes, your dad’s convinced she’s Satan in a four-year-old?”
“I know who - ” Rose lets out a sound that could be a sigh or a growl. “Look. I’m fine. They just want to keep me overnight, I’ll be back in time tomorrow morning to get her off to school, and I really just need you to look after her tonight. You can even stay in my place - you’ve got the key and everything. But she can’t stay alone, she’s only four.”
“I know. Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it, I got it.”
“Thanks, Mickey,” Rose says, quietly this time. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
There are a few parking spots set aside for parents to pick their kids up at Suzy’s preschool. Mickey hesitates, but parks there anyway and goes inside.
The first thing he notices is the color scheme; all primaries, red and yellow and blue. Lots of geometric patterns, too, all helpfully labeled “Triangle” and “Square” in handwriting so neat it can’t possibly be human.
Suzy recognizes him right away, and from halfway across the room at that; he barely sees her before he finds his knees locked together by forty pounds of hugging, screeching four-year-old.
“Hey, Suz,” he says, tussling her hair - light brown and shoulder-length. Sometimes Mickey looks at her and expects to see Rose, but Suzy looks more like Pete and Rose never wore light-up trainers. “Lemme go, I gotta sign you out.”
“Where’s Rose? Rose was s’posed to get me. We were gonna watch Harry Potter.”
“She can’t make it today, so she asked me to get you. I’m watching you tonight. That okay?” He says it nonchalantly, because he knows Suzy’s listening more to his tone than his words; she nods against his thigh, and lets go.
One of the preschool teachers approaches him. “Excuse me, sir? Are you authorized to sign Suzette out?”
He nods. “Mickey Smith. I’m listed on her emergency forms. Something came up, and Rose couldn’t make it today.”
The teacher frowns, but fetches the clipboard anyway.
“What’d you do today?” Mickey asks after a moment, trying to play the authority figure. Suzy’s face lights up.
“At recess, we played monsters and aliens and I got to be Torchwood ‘cause Daddy works there and Jacob said monsters aren’t real so we made him be the monster and chased him and chased him until we killed him.”
Mickey frowns. “You killed Jacob?”
Suzy gives him a look that he had thought only Roes could give. “No, we killed the monster.”
“Oh,” says Mickey. It occurs to him, after a moment, that this is his chance to spoil Suzy rotten. (He refuses to admit that he’s wanted to do it for a while, as he feels it’s his right as her not-actually-but-close-enough uncle.) “D’you want pizza or Chinese for dinner?”
Suzy grins.
They spend most of the evening sitting on the carpet between the telly and couches watching Harry Potter movies, occasionally with foods Rose and Jackie and Pete would never let Suzy touch on a regular school night. Mickey makes sure none of the ice cream stains the carpet, and figures he can always deny involvement later.
It ends up being a marathon, because Suzy doesn’t have any homework and Mickey hasn’t watched these movies in years. They’re better than he remembers, and he can think of worse things to be doing on his day off than leaning against a couch, eating chocolate ice cream, and hugging his not-really-but-close-enough niece during the werewolf scene. And the Aragog scene. And that one scene with Quirrell, but only because that’s bloody creepy and Suzy gets scared easily.
The best part of the evening is Suzy herself; every now and then she’ll come up with some comment like, “Rose said that spiders only grow that big when they’re mutant aliens,” or “Rose told me Queen Victoria was a werewolf, but Miss Nina at school said she’s not but I think Rose is right.”
Sometimes Mickey wonders about what Rose tells her sister, and whether or not it’s good for her, but the Queen Victoria thing is so priceless he forgets to be worried because he’s laughing so hard.
They’re finishing the third movie when Suzy yawns so widely Mickey thinks her jaw’s going to pop off, and realizes it’s her bedtime.
“C’mon, Suz,” he says, turning off the telly, “time for bed. You got school tomorrow.”
Suzy’s so tired she doesn’t even resist, only nods. Mickey picks her up and carries her to her room to change into pyjamas, then herds her towards the sink to brush her teeth.
He gets a pretty good view of Rose’s apartment while he does, even though he’s already seen it before. The walls are the same white they were when Rose moved in, and the lived-in clutter is omnipresent, including Suzy’s toys. Suzy’s room is technically the guest room, and Mickey’s slept there once or twice, but most guest bedrooms aren’t furnished in pink and ponies and nobody’s fooled.
Pete and Jackie travel a lot, now - not a ridiculous amount, but once a month or so they leave London, and they can’t take Suzy with them during the school year. Mickey remembers that conversation, vaguely, and that Rose volunteered to watch her sister.
Suzy brushes her teeth by herself - God, how did she get this old this fast? - and Mickey takes her back to her room.
“D’you want me to read to you?” he asks uncertainly, when Suzy climbs underneath the fuzzy comforter.
“Can you tell me a story?” Suzy says. “Rose usually tells me a story.”
Mickey doesn’t have to ask what kind of story. He’s just told Suzy about finding pre-Revolutionary France on a spaceship three thousand years in the future when he hears the door to the apartment open.
“Y’know what? I’ll finish in a minute,” Mickey says, before leaning over and kissing Suzy on the forehead.
He finds Rose in the kitchen, making tea, and knocks on the doorframe so he doesn’t startle her.
“Hey,” she says, smiling. There’s a bandage on her forehead, traces of red coming through the gauze. “The hospital let me out early,” she continues smugly, “so I figured I’d let you off the hook. Tea?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Mickey joins her and takes out the sugar and cream. “What was it?” She looks at him questioningly, and he motions to her forehead.
“Oh, that,” she says, brushing a hand over it. “There was a Luxan down in Peet District. It thew me around a bit. Or tried to, anyway.” She hands him his tea with a smile. “And you? You got a day off, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but Jake still had work so I wasn’t doing anything anyway.”
“Still, I appreciate it.” Rose puts her tea down, her eyes focusing on the doorway. “Hey, Suz. I thought you were asleep.”
Suzy shakes her head. “Mickey didn’t finish the story.”
Rose glances at him, and he just smiles and shrugs sheepishly. She smiles faintly back, before getting on one knee in front of her sister. “Which story was he telling you?”
“About a spaceship and a fireplace.” Rose’s smile grows, and she flicks a bit of hair out of Suzy’s face.
Suzy pulls back and wrinkles her nose. “What happened?”
Rose touches her bandage again, and shakes her head. “I just got hurt. I’m fine, love. And lucky for you, I know the rest of the story Mickey was telling you.” She looks back at him again, and grins. “He’s probably telling it wrong, anyway. C’mon.”
Mickey lingers in the apartment, occasionally catching a snippet of what Rose is saying; he can hear Suzy’s laugh when Rose mentions the horse, and her gasp when the Doctor goes through the mirror. But the ending is a happy one, considering - nobody died, history wasn’t permanently rewritten or noticeably tampered with, and Rose conveniently doesn’t mention the Doctor going back through the fireplace and returning with a bit less spring in his step. Mickey wonders, vaguely, if that’s how Rose chooses to remember it, or just how she chooses to tell it.
Rose emerges sometime later, and he hands her a fresh cup of tea.
“So Suzy and I were on Goblet of Fire in our epic Harry Potter rewatch,” he mentions. “I wonder if Snape will seem like less of a ponce when you’ve got a head injury.”
Rose gives him a Look, but smiles back, and they settle down on her couch with tea as the movie starts.
All in all, Mickey thinks, not a bad way to spend a day off.