The Devon Way Is Infinitely Better Than The Cornish {10/R, G}
***
Rose smiles widely, politely, carefully at the occupants of the natty little tea-room in an effort to assert herself as a reasonably sane and respectable personage with every right to be there. She's hoping her bared teeth will draw attention away from her rather blowsy hair and adventure-stained clothing and tries to conceal the enormous burn in her T-shirt with an overly casual elbow. Then she marvels at her optimism - how she could believe this was anything but a lost cause.
The Doctor manages to thoroughly ruin any good impression she's cultivating when he bounds in with a manic grin and what she swears is the craziest hair he's ever inhabited. There's something about the cream walls and delicate prints that's sending him into even sharper relief (she thinks she's finally seeing the Doctor that all her mates stand well back in alarm from). She seriously reckons they're going to be politely escorted back the way they came, especially when they're approached by a woman in an honest-to-God ruffled apron - but then she remembers the crazy alien bobbing up and down behind her and his sheer bloody magnetism, and turns to better watch the show.
There goes the head-tip, there goes the wide wide eyes, there (aha) goes the parted lips and tongue which rapidly swells into a grin so darling she's sure the gentle clash of cutlery is really the sound of angels downing halos in furious jealous tantrums.
'Humph,' she says to herself as Ruffles simpers. This is one thing she really needs to perfect. She's lacking the necessary energy to be disgruntled however - her feet are killing, and there're little cut-glass dishes of raspberry jam on the table they're being gestured towards. She makes sure to tell him that the wink was over-kill, though.
*
Rose sucks the spoon absentmindedly; it's not raspberry, it's...well, what?
'Loganberry,' says her companion happily, emptying the lot over a scone half and dolloping viscous clotted cream on top. She just stares at him open-mouthed.
'What are you doing?' she demands, indignantly, leaning right over the lacy tablecloth until her hair's practically in the milk and laser-gunning the Doctor with a Tyler stare. He looks terribly guilty.
'Sorry, Rose. Look, we'll get more jam,' he babbles, beckoning wildly to a waitress and stuffing the half in his mouth to avoid further discussion. To his consternation, she doesn't look in the least placated as the waitress dispenses more goodies.
'You put the jam on before the cream,' she glowers. The Doctor, unable to articulate a word, widens his eyes hopefully. Rose rolls her eyes.
'Look,' she says, leaning back and dropping three sugar cubes into her tea, 'I'm all for trying new things - ' she gulps her tea and waves a hand vaguely ' - as should be obvious, but there are some things that are just so wrong it doesn't bear thinking about. If you don't do the little things right then the whole world might as well fall apart. Like...like...imagine having chips without vinegar - '
The Doctor, mouth still crammed with stodge, looks so violently repulsed she thinks she's tickled his gag reflex. 'Well then,' she continues, clattering her cup into a saucer, 'it's the same principle, right? There's "nothing so important as the trivial", after all.' At his face, she smirks. 'You need to find a better hiding place for your favourite books than under that armchair.'
He looks at her, still chewing, but grinning madly. She beams back and then suddenly frowns. 'Ohmygod,' she says. 'My mum was right.'
'Wha'?' muffles the Doctor, disbelieving, 'yo'r mum'f?' He shakes his head and tries to swallow. 'Abou' whaf?'
She sits still like oak for a couple of seconds and then grins and pokes out her tongue at him (privately he's shocked she doesn't gut him for the Tyler-slur). 'Never mind,' she twinkles. 'I don't think I'm quite as mad as you yet. There's still hope you know,' she says as she slathers cream on her scone matter-of-factly, 'no matter what she says about me 'turning into the Doctor' and her complaining about how I've started talking like you, no way. I'm sane as a very sane thing next to you. Oh, damn.'
The Doctor laughs and laughs and laughs. Rose just swears as she tries to scrape the jam off her lap.
***
A/N: So, I wrote this fic for THIS:
...and halfway through went 'DAMN. THAT BAYN'T CAKE,' and then I was all 'AH, MAYBE PEOPLE ARE ALSO BLIND AND WON'T NOTICE,' and then I thought 'SO THAT'S PROBABLY SOMETHING I WON'T WANT TO TELL PEOPLE WHEN I POST; THAT THIS PIC IS ACTUALLY OF PIZZA AND WINE AND STUFF,' and then I did anyway.
*stupid A/N is stupid*