Don't Blink - 9/?
Title: Don't Blink - 9/?
Authors: rosewarren and ladychi
Characters: Rose, Ten
Summary: AU. What if Rose had stayed through Doomsday and was the one to end up in 1969 with the Doctor?
Rating: PG
~ One~ Two~ Three~ Four~ Five~ Six~ Seven~ Eight~
The Doctor enjoyed shopping - a very particular kind of a shopping. A kind of shopping that this was not. He could happily spend hours looking for parts he could use on the TARDIS. Hunting local bargains was a thrill for him. Trying out local cuisines and observing alien cultures throughout time and space never got old. Bargaining...ah, bargaining for anything was almost as much fun as traveling through time and space. The Bantillan peoples were insulted if you didn’t haggle and counter-offer at least six times, for example. Thrilling and exciting, especially if they felt insulted and pulled a weapon on you.
Clothes shopping, on the other hand, was not fun. The TARDIS supplied him with all the brown suits, shirts and ties he could desire. Plimsolls were his for the choosing. The same was true of his companions, even though Rose preferred shopping in actual shops for her clothes. On occasion she would make use of the wardrobe room to find a specific costume, but she even preferred bringing her dirty laundry home to Jackie over letting the TARDIS take care of it all.
For a moment guilt washed over him. They had no TARDIS to provide clothing for them, and Jackie was in another universe where Rose could never follow. How was he going to get them out of this?
Rose pulled him out of his thoughts. “Did you hear what I said?” she asked suspiciously.
“Oh, yes!” he assured her insincerely. “Yes, I did.”
Her expression told him she knew he hadn’t been listening. Rose waited.
“Er...was it very important?” he inquired.
She rolled her eyes and dropped his hand as they drew up to the shop.
“What?” the Doctor asked, rather surprised to find himself feeling upset that she had let go of his hand and was walking on ahead. He skipped and rushed ahead to catch up with her.
“Nothing,” Rose said with a sigh. “Come on.”
The Doctor looked up at the sign above the doors.
“Marks and Spencer?” he asked doubtfully.
Rose looked at him impatiently, rather the way one might look at an uncooperative toddler. “Where else would we find clothes for you?” she asked. “I’m not exactly familiar with the shops around here. The London I know doesn’t exist yet.”
The Doctor looked thoughtful. Rose had a feeling he was flipping through some mental rolodex. Sometimes she wondered what secrets he kept. Sometimes she wished he would share them with her.
“This will do,” the Doctor said finally. “Come on, then!” He took her arm and opened the door for her with his free hand. “Here we go! Ladies’ clothing, this way.”
“We’re looking for you, remember?” she reminded him.
“You first. I know you - always needing new clothes for every occasion.”
“Well, I can hardly walk around in the same outfit, can I?” Rose asked. “I’ll leave that to you.”
“Oi!”
Standing in the midst of the ladies’ department, Rose was overwhelmed by the choices. Bright florals, plaids and checks, eye-popping solids. The colors were incredibly vivid. And the fabrics...
“This feels weird,” she said to the Doctor in a low voice, running a length of green fabric through her fingers.
He put on his glasses and peered at the material. “Polyethylene terephthalate. Long-chain polymers chemically composed of an ester and a dihydric alcohol along with terephthalic acid.”
Rose looked down at it. “Feels like bad polyester.”
“Yes, that’s what I said.” The Doctor took off his glasses and tucked them in his pocket. “Polyester. Very popular in this time period. This is the space age, Rose! Time for a space age fabric.”
Rose didn’t care for the feel of the material and hated to think of it against her skin. She put it back and began wandering the racks, trying to reconcile her twenty-first century notions of clothing with what was available to her now.
“Can I help you?” said a voice at her elbow.
Rose looked up to see a woman about her mum’s age standing there with a smile. She wore a nametag pinned to her blue polyester pantsuit. Rose blinked at the color - it was a bright aqua with a pink check. A pink blouse was underneath the jacket, wide lapels spread against the collar.
“I’m just looking for some new clothes,” Rose told her.
The saleswoman - the tag said her name was Julie - looked her up and down and nodded.
“Of course. Let’s see what we can do for you.”
Rose tugged self-consciously at her hoodie top. Did she really stand out so much? Her pants covered her legs, which was more than she could say for that brunette standing a few feet away. That woman wore a minidress that was indecent under any circumstances. The fact that she was smiling at the Doctor made Rose frown.
Before she could head over to the Doctor and make it clear that they were together, the Doctor, ever oblivious to most social situations, headed over to her.
“I’ll just stroll around the store, shall I?” he asked Rose.
“Don’t run off,” she warned him. “You need something to wear, too.”
“I promise I won’t run off,” he said dutifully. Rose noticed he did not mention going to look for clothing, but just then the salesclerk came up with a dress in each hand, and Rose had to let him go.
“Okay, then,” she said, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face. Just because it was looking a bit wind-blown, she thought to herself. Not to show anyone who might be watching that they were together.
Because they weren’t. Even though they were. Well, sort of.
Rose gave up on trying to justify her actions. She was pleased, though, to see that he didn’t so much as glance at the brunette as he walked away, even though the brunette’s eyes followed him all the way down the escalator.
In the end Rose went into a fitting room with an armful of dresses, trousers and jumpers. The salesclerk was happy to help her with sizing.
“What about undergarments?”’ Julie asked. She and Rose were now on very good terms. “You’re not one of those girls who refuses to wear a brassiere, are you?”
She looked so worried that Rose swallowed a laugh.
“Uh, no. Definitely not,” she assured Julie. “I, er, like support.”
“I think the young men appreciate a bit of lift and support, myself,” Julie confided. “Makes the figure so much more attractive.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Rose nodded. “And I do need some...some undergarments.” 1969 was turning into the oddest mixture of free love and conservatism.
Luckily the fashions of this period weren’t as awful as Rose had thought they’d be. She picked out a green dress with a matching leather belt that she fancied looked rather cute on her. It wasn’t as short as some other dresses she’d tried on, and she thought it would be nice for work. She also added a pair of jeans and a few slacks and matching tops. Her trainers were a plain white and would work for a few more days. She made a mental note to stop in the shoe department for something with a heel.
The undergarments Julie had brought for her inspection weren’t exactly Victoria’s Secret, but the stuff was very pretty. She picked out a few sets of bras and underpants, unable to resist the pink and white material. The briefs, far from being something her gran might have worn, were actually quite skimpy and cute, just like the bikinis and thongs she was used to wearing. Rose hoped that she had enough money for it all. Otherwise the Doctor would have to work his magic with the psychic paper again, and that would make her feel a bit guilty.
She had some money left over after she paid for her things, and Rose gratefully thanked Julie and gathered her carrier bags. Hoping the Doctor hadn’t left the actual building, she checked the store directory and went to the menswear department. She was happy to see him standing there, looking around in some dismay.
“These are bellbottoms, Rose,” he said seriously as she walked up to him. “I just cannot wear bellbottoms.”
Something prompted Rose to say, “Those jeans over there look nice.”
The Doctor closed his eyes. The jeans looked like they’d been through a paper shredder.
“No,” he said decisively. “I won’t do it.”
“You once wore a toga in ancient Rome!” Rose said in a whisper. “I don’t think jeans are much of a stretch after that, yeah?”
But he refused. His refusal led them to their first fight in 1969. It was more of an argument than a fight, begun when Rose accused him of being difficult.
“Me! Difficult?” The Doctor looked insulted. “I’m the most-easy going person you’ll ever meet.”
Rose held up a pair of trousers and shook them. “Then why won’t you try these on?”
He stared at her as though she’d just asked him what color the sky was today. “Rose, they’re houndstooth. Houndstooth!”
“Houndstooth. Fine. But what’s wrong with this sweater?” Rose held up her other hand, where a limp blue sweater hung on a hanger.
“It’s got no pockets.” The Doctor tried out a smile on her, but it was no use. Rose was rapidly reminding him of her mother.
“What’s it matter if it’s got no pockets?” she demanded, her voice very close to a Jackie Tyler - range screech.
“Rose, I need pockets. Where will I put the sonic screwdriver?”
Rose dropped the sweater and trousers where she stood and walked away.
By the time they found items conservative enough for him Rose was starving. He agreed to try things on for size, but declined to come out and show her how they looked. She was rather disappointed by that.
“Do you really need dress shirts and ties?” Rose asked. “You’re a handsome bloke, you can blend in with this stuff. We’ll tell everyone you’re a student. It’ll be cheaper that way.”
Her words diverted the Doctor. “A handsome bloke?” he repeated, waggling his eyebrows at her and sticking out his tongue, before he abruptly turned serious. “Really?”
Something passed between them, something new. They’d flirted plenty of times before, but this felt different to Rose. Different and exciting. She swallowed, her response somehow more important than it had ever been.
“I’ll set these items over by the register,” the salesclerk said, coming up to them and taking the clothes out of Rose’s hands. “I have a nice selection of socks for you to look at next. And for your underwear?”
The Doctor simply looked at him. “Sorry?”
“Boxers? Briefs? We have both.”
The Doctor gaped like a fish. Rose started giggling uncontrollably, unable to stop even when both men turned to look at her. That broke the spell. An embarrassed Doctor stammered and stalled, and Rose took the opportunity to give them some privacy.
“I’ll just...go over there,” she said, giggling harder as the Doctor’s face turned red.
She didn’t know what the Doctor’s choice was, and couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
Rose headed back to the register when she saw the Doctor standing there, the pile of chosen clothing in front of him.
“Luckily maxicoats are very popular right now,” the salesclerk was saying. “Yours is particularly nice.”
“It was a gift from Janis Joplin,” the Doctor said, glancing at Rose as she drew near. The salesman gave him an odd look and clearly didn’t believe him, but the Doctor didn’t notice. Why would he pay attention to a salesclerk when Rose Tyler was nearby?
“Hello,” he said, his earlier embarrassment already forgotten.
She smiled. “Hi. You ready?”
“Yes.”
She paid for his new clothes while the Doctor headed to another part of the store. He’d declined to change into anything new, keeping his suit and coat on. Rose hoped he would be willing to part with them soon. Who would have though that a single male could be so much work? A few pairs of trousers and a handful of shirts had taken over an hour.
She suspected not having laundry on demand was going to be quite a shock to him. She wondered if she would have to teach him how to run a washing machine.
“These boots are made for walking,” the small radio in Rose’s bedroom sang the next morning. Rose hummed along as she got ready for work. Her hair still wrapped in a towel, she did her makeup in the bathroom. Heavy black mascara and eyeliner, not too much different from her normal look. Some pale pink lipstick. She’d have to reapply it after breakfast but she liked the way it looked.
She’d bought a second dress yesterday, on the way home. They’d been walking down the street, the Doctor laden with carrier bags, when she’d spotted it in the window. The Doctor had not been happy at all with her stopping, complaining of hunger, so she’d gone back to the flat, eaten a takeaway dinner of fish and chips, and then nipped out when the Doctor’s attention was grabbed by the television.
The dress was pink. It had a low, square neck, short sleeves, and a hemline that was dangerously high. She’d had just enough money left over to buy white shoes with a modest heel. Rose felt like she was playing dress-up, but it was fun.
She quickly dried her hair with the hairdryer she’d found in her bedroom closet. Not wanting to bother with complicated sixties hairstyles today, she brushed it smooth and swept it back in a ponytail. Her silver hoop earrings looked nice enough with the dress, although she fancied some large white earrings would make her fit right in.
The lock and key on her TARDIS chain still hung around her neck. She pulled them out so that they hung outside her neckline. Satisfied, she went out to he kitchen, where she could hear the Doctor making tea.
“Ow!” She heard the exclamation and grinned. The teakettle was not a cooperative one. It worked just fine for her, but not for him.
“Good morning,” Rose said cheerfully.
The Doctor looked up. The teakettle was whistling, and he had his finger stuck in his mouth.
“Morning,” he mumbled. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah, I did. You?” Rose sat down and grabbed a piece of toast from the plate in front of him.
“I don’t sleep, remember? Did some reading, watched the telly, observed the neighbors.”
“Were you spying on our neighbors?”
“Well. Not spying. But there’s a bloke upstairs who looks shifty. Kept looking over his shoulder as he went up the stairs last night.” The Doctor poured Rose a mug of tea.
“He probably sensed you were watching him,” she pointed out. “How come you’re not wearing your new clothes?” she continued, noting that he was in his suit and tie.
“I will,” he said.
“When? We talked about this, Doctor, remember?”
“I remember.” He scowled and poured some tea for himself. “I just hate to have to change, that’s all. I’m happy with this suit.”
“Well, keep it up and soon it’ll be able to walk on its own.”
He rolled his eyes. “All right, then.” He stood up and made a production out of unbuttoning suit jacket. Just why that gesture should make Rose’s mouth go dry she had no idea. She’d watched him undo the buttons before, but never because he was going to take the jacket off. He’d never done that in front of her before.
The Doctor eased out of the jacket, laid it across the back of his chair, and flung his arms out. “There! See?”
He stood there in just his blue shirt and tie. Rose did see, and she nodded, amazingly, rather inappropriately turned on by the sight of him in just his shirt.
“Oh, almost forgot!” The Doctor grinned and undid his tie, laying it carelessly on the table. “There we are!” He rolled up his sleeves, sat back down, and started spreading orange marmalade on his toast. “You were right, Rose. Feel more like a student already!”
Rose shifted in her chair. The sight of his bare arms, combined with the open neck of his shirt, was making her very aware of him. Things were changing a little too fast between them.
“Rose? You all right?” The Doctor watched her in concern as he chewed his toast.
Rose watched him take a bite of toast, watched his tongue lick some marmalade from his lips.
“I, er, better go to work,” she said breathlessly, leaving her toast and tea untouched. “I’ll see you at lunch!”
She was gone and out the door before he could respond. Shrugging, the Doctor settled back to finish his tea.
Ten
Authors: rosewarren and ladychi
Characters: Rose, Ten
Summary: AU. What if Rose had stayed through Doomsday and was the one to end up in 1969 with the Doctor?
Rating: PG
~ One~ Two~ Three~ Four~ Five~ Six~ Seven~ Eight~
The Doctor enjoyed shopping - a very particular kind of a shopping. A kind of shopping that this was not. He could happily spend hours looking for parts he could use on the TARDIS. Hunting local bargains was a thrill for him. Trying out local cuisines and observing alien cultures throughout time and space never got old. Bargaining...ah, bargaining for anything was almost as much fun as traveling through time and space. The Bantillan peoples were insulted if you didn’t haggle and counter-offer at least six times, for example. Thrilling and exciting, especially if they felt insulted and pulled a weapon on you.
Clothes shopping, on the other hand, was not fun. The TARDIS supplied him with all the brown suits, shirts and ties he could desire. Plimsolls were his for the choosing. The same was true of his companions, even though Rose preferred shopping in actual shops for her clothes. On occasion she would make use of the wardrobe room to find a specific costume, but she even preferred bringing her dirty laundry home to Jackie over letting the TARDIS take care of it all.
For a moment guilt washed over him. They had no TARDIS to provide clothing for them, and Jackie was in another universe where Rose could never follow. How was he going to get them out of this?
Rose pulled him out of his thoughts. “Did you hear what I said?” she asked suspiciously.
“Oh, yes!” he assured her insincerely. “Yes, I did.”
Her expression told him she knew he hadn’t been listening. Rose waited.
“Er...was it very important?” he inquired.
She rolled her eyes and dropped his hand as they drew up to the shop.
“What?” the Doctor asked, rather surprised to find himself feeling upset that she had let go of his hand and was walking on ahead. He skipped and rushed ahead to catch up with her.
“Nothing,” Rose said with a sigh. “Come on.”
The Doctor looked up at the sign above the doors.
“Marks and Spencer?” he asked doubtfully.
Rose looked at him impatiently, rather the way one might look at an uncooperative toddler. “Where else would we find clothes for you?” she asked. “I’m not exactly familiar with the shops around here. The London I know doesn’t exist yet.”
The Doctor looked thoughtful. Rose had a feeling he was flipping through some mental rolodex. Sometimes she wondered what secrets he kept. Sometimes she wished he would share them with her.
“This will do,” the Doctor said finally. “Come on, then!” He took her arm and opened the door for her with his free hand. “Here we go! Ladies’ clothing, this way.”
“We’re looking for you, remember?” she reminded him.
“You first. I know you - always needing new clothes for every occasion.”
“Well, I can hardly walk around in the same outfit, can I?” Rose asked. “I’ll leave that to you.”
“Oi!”
Standing in the midst of the ladies’ department, Rose was overwhelmed by the choices. Bright florals, plaids and checks, eye-popping solids. The colors were incredibly vivid. And the fabrics...
“This feels weird,” she said to the Doctor in a low voice, running a length of green fabric through her fingers.
He put on his glasses and peered at the material. “Polyethylene terephthalate. Long-chain polymers chemically composed of an ester and a dihydric alcohol along with terephthalic acid.”
Rose looked down at it. “Feels like bad polyester.”
“Yes, that’s what I said.” The Doctor took off his glasses and tucked them in his pocket. “Polyester. Very popular in this time period. This is the space age, Rose! Time for a space age fabric.”
Rose didn’t care for the feel of the material and hated to think of it against her skin. She put it back and began wandering the racks, trying to reconcile her twenty-first century notions of clothing with what was available to her now.
“Can I help you?” said a voice at her elbow.
Rose looked up to see a woman about her mum’s age standing there with a smile. She wore a nametag pinned to her blue polyester pantsuit. Rose blinked at the color - it was a bright aqua with a pink check. A pink blouse was underneath the jacket, wide lapels spread against the collar.
“I’m just looking for some new clothes,” Rose told her.
The saleswoman - the tag said her name was Julie - looked her up and down and nodded.
“Of course. Let’s see what we can do for you.”
Rose tugged self-consciously at her hoodie top. Did she really stand out so much? Her pants covered her legs, which was more than she could say for that brunette standing a few feet away. That woman wore a minidress that was indecent under any circumstances. The fact that she was smiling at the Doctor made Rose frown.
Before she could head over to the Doctor and make it clear that they were together, the Doctor, ever oblivious to most social situations, headed over to her.
“I’ll just stroll around the store, shall I?” he asked Rose.
“Don’t run off,” she warned him. “You need something to wear, too.”
“I promise I won’t run off,” he said dutifully. Rose noticed he did not mention going to look for clothing, but just then the salesclerk came up with a dress in each hand, and Rose had to let him go.
“Okay, then,” she said, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face. Just because it was looking a bit wind-blown, she thought to herself. Not to show anyone who might be watching that they were together.
Because they weren’t. Even though they were. Well, sort of.
Rose gave up on trying to justify her actions. She was pleased, though, to see that he didn’t so much as glance at the brunette as he walked away, even though the brunette’s eyes followed him all the way down the escalator.
In the end Rose went into a fitting room with an armful of dresses, trousers and jumpers. The salesclerk was happy to help her with sizing.
“What about undergarments?”’ Julie asked. She and Rose were now on very good terms. “You’re not one of those girls who refuses to wear a brassiere, are you?”
She looked so worried that Rose swallowed a laugh.
“Uh, no. Definitely not,” she assured Julie. “I, er, like support.”
“I think the young men appreciate a bit of lift and support, myself,” Julie confided. “Makes the figure so much more attractive.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Rose nodded. “And I do need some...some undergarments.” 1969 was turning into the oddest mixture of free love and conservatism.
Luckily the fashions of this period weren’t as awful as Rose had thought they’d be. She picked out a green dress with a matching leather belt that she fancied looked rather cute on her. It wasn’t as short as some other dresses she’d tried on, and she thought it would be nice for work. She also added a pair of jeans and a few slacks and matching tops. Her trainers were a plain white and would work for a few more days. She made a mental note to stop in the shoe department for something with a heel.
The undergarments Julie had brought for her inspection weren’t exactly Victoria’s Secret, but the stuff was very pretty. She picked out a few sets of bras and underpants, unable to resist the pink and white material. The briefs, far from being something her gran might have worn, were actually quite skimpy and cute, just like the bikinis and thongs she was used to wearing. Rose hoped that she had enough money for it all. Otherwise the Doctor would have to work his magic with the psychic paper again, and that would make her feel a bit guilty.
She had some money left over after she paid for her things, and Rose gratefully thanked Julie and gathered her carrier bags. Hoping the Doctor hadn’t left the actual building, she checked the store directory and went to the menswear department. She was happy to see him standing there, looking around in some dismay.
“These are bellbottoms, Rose,” he said seriously as she walked up to him. “I just cannot wear bellbottoms.”
Something prompted Rose to say, “Those jeans over there look nice.”
The Doctor closed his eyes. The jeans looked like they’d been through a paper shredder.
“No,” he said decisively. “I won’t do it.”
“You once wore a toga in ancient Rome!” Rose said in a whisper. “I don’t think jeans are much of a stretch after that, yeah?”
But he refused. His refusal led them to their first fight in 1969. It was more of an argument than a fight, begun when Rose accused him of being difficult.
“Me! Difficult?” The Doctor looked insulted. “I’m the most-easy going person you’ll ever meet.”
Rose held up a pair of trousers and shook them. “Then why won’t you try these on?”
He stared at her as though she’d just asked him what color the sky was today. “Rose, they’re houndstooth. Houndstooth!”
“Houndstooth. Fine. But what’s wrong with this sweater?” Rose held up her other hand, where a limp blue sweater hung on a hanger.
“It’s got no pockets.” The Doctor tried out a smile on her, but it was no use. Rose was rapidly reminding him of her mother.
“What’s it matter if it’s got no pockets?” she demanded, her voice very close to a Jackie Tyler - range screech.
“Rose, I need pockets. Where will I put the sonic screwdriver?”
Rose dropped the sweater and trousers where she stood and walked away.
By the time they found items conservative enough for him Rose was starving. He agreed to try things on for size, but declined to come out and show her how they looked. She was rather disappointed by that.
“Do you really need dress shirts and ties?” Rose asked. “You’re a handsome bloke, you can blend in with this stuff. We’ll tell everyone you’re a student. It’ll be cheaper that way.”
Her words diverted the Doctor. “A handsome bloke?” he repeated, waggling his eyebrows at her and sticking out his tongue, before he abruptly turned serious. “Really?”
Something passed between them, something new. They’d flirted plenty of times before, but this felt different to Rose. Different and exciting. She swallowed, her response somehow more important than it had ever been.
“I’ll set these items over by the register,” the salesclerk said, coming up to them and taking the clothes out of Rose’s hands. “I have a nice selection of socks for you to look at next. And for your underwear?”
The Doctor simply looked at him. “Sorry?”
“Boxers? Briefs? We have both.”
The Doctor gaped like a fish. Rose started giggling uncontrollably, unable to stop even when both men turned to look at her. That broke the spell. An embarrassed Doctor stammered and stalled, and Rose took the opportunity to give them some privacy.
“I’ll just...go over there,” she said, giggling harder as the Doctor’s face turned red.
She didn’t know what the Doctor’s choice was, and couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
Rose headed back to the register when she saw the Doctor standing there, the pile of chosen clothing in front of him.
“Luckily maxicoats are very popular right now,” the salesclerk was saying. “Yours is particularly nice.”
“It was a gift from Janis Joplin,” the Doctor said, glancing at Rose as she drew near. The salesman gave him an odd look and clearly didn’t believe him, but the Doctor didn’t notice. Why would he pay attention to a salesclerk when Rose Tyler was nearby?
“Hello,” he said, his earlier embarrassment already forgotten.
She smiled. “Hi. You ready?”
“Yes.”
She paid for his new clothes while the Doctor headed to another part of the store. He’d declined to change into anything new, keeping his suit and coat on. Rose hoped he would be willing to part with them soon. Who would have though that a single male could be so much work? A few pairs of trousers and a handful of shirts had taken over an hour.
She suspected not having laundry on demand was going to be quite a shock to him. She wondered if she would have to teach him how to run a washing machine.
“These boots are made for walking,” the small radio in Rose’s bedroom sang the next morning. Rose hummed along as she got ready for work. Her hair still wrapped in a towel, she did her makeup in the bathroom. Heavy black mascara and eyeliner, not too much different from her normal look. Some pale pink lipstick. She’d have to reapply it after breakfast but she liked the way it looked.
She’d bought a second dress yesterday, on the way home. They’d been walking down the street, the Doctor laden with carrier bags, when she’d spotted it in the window. The Doctor had not been happy at all with her stopping, complaining of hunger, so she’d gone back to the flat, eaten a takeaway dinner of fish and chips, and then nipped out when the Doctor’s attention was grabbed by the television.
The dress was pink. It had a low, square neck, short sleeves, and a hemline that was dangerously high. She’d had just enough money left over to buy white shoes with a modest heel. Rose felt like she was playing dress-up, but it was fun.
She quickly dried her hair with the hairdryer she’d found in her bedroom closet. Not wanting to bother with complicated sixties hairstyles today, she brushed it smooth and swept it back in a ponytail. Her silver hoop earrings looked nice enough with the dress, although she fancied some large white earrings would make her fit right in.
The lock and key on her TARDIS chain still hung around her neck. She pulled them out so that they hung outside her neckline. Satisfied, she went out to he kitchen, where she could hear the Doctor making tea.
“Ow!” She heard the exclamation and grinned. The teakettle was not a cooperative one. It worked just fine for her, but not for him.
“Good morning,” Rose said cheerfully.
The Doctor looked up. The teakettle was whistling, and he had his finger stuck in his mouth.
“Morning,” he mumbled. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah, I did. You?” Rose sat down and grabbed a piece of toast from the plate in front of him.
“I don’t sleep, remember? Did some reading, watched the telly, observed the neighbors.”
“Were you spying on our neighbors?”
“Well. Not spying. But there’s a bloke upstairs who looks shifty. Kept looking over his shoulder as he went up the stairs last night.” The Doctor poured Rose a mug of tea.
“He probably sensed you were watching him,” she pointed out. “How come you’re not wearing your new clothes?” she continued, noting that he was in his suit and tie.
“I will,” he said.
“When? We talked about this, Doctor, remember?”
“I remember.” He scowled and poured some tea for himself. “I just hate to have to change, that’s all. I’m happy with this suit.”
“Well, keep it up and soon it’ll be able to walk on its own.”
He rolled his eyes. “All right, then.” He stood up and made a production out of unbuttoning suit jacket. Just why that gesture should make Rose’s mouth go dry she had no idea. She’d watched him undo the buttons before, but never because he was going to take the jacket off. He’d never done that in front of her before.
The Doctor eased out of the jacket, laid it across the back of his chair, and flung his arms out. “There! See?”
He stood there in just his blue shirt and tie. Rose did see, and she nodded, amazingly, rather inappropriately turned on by the sight of him in just his shirt.
“Oh, almost forgot!” The Doctor grinned and undid his tie, laying it carelessly on the table. “There we are!” He rolled up his sleeves, sat back down, and started spreading orange marmalade on his toast. “You were right, Rose. Feel more like a student already!”
Rose shifted in her chair. The sight of his bare arms, combined with the open neck of his shirt, was making her very aware of him. Things were changing a little too fast between them.
“Rose? You all right?” The Doctor watched her in concern as he chewed his toast.
Rose watched him take a bite of toast, watched his tongue lick some marmalade from his lips.
“I, er, better go to work,” she said breathlessly, leaving her toast and tea untouched. “I’ll see you at lunch!”
She was gone and out the door before he could respond. Shrugging, the Doctor settled back to finish his tea.
Ten