Tuxedos And Other Disguises (1/1)
“Rose, come here Rose!”
A small, fluffy, Yorkshire terrier came running down the stairs to Jackie Tyler’s feet. “There you are, my darling!” Jackie crooned, as she swept out of the foyer and into the next room, her ridiculously small dog at her feet.
Rose, the real, human Rose, looked up at her best friend, her face caught between anguish, amazement, and a strange amount of hope. She didn’t know how to feel about her alternative mother and father replacing her with a dog, and when she didn’t know something, she turned to the Doctor for help.
Unfortunately, the Doctor was receiving none of her weirded-out, upset signals. All he saw was that Jackie Tyler, the only mother in the Universe ever to have slapped him, was fussing over a tiny mutt that looked more like an oversized rat than a canine. It had been the little bow in the poor thing’s hair that had finally cracked him, though. He saw Rose look up at him, and with that comparison in mind, burst out laughing.
If looks could kill, he would easily have been regenerating right that second. He registered far too late the hurt on Rose’s face. She thrust him the now empty tray in her shaking hands and marched from the room, leaving him staring regretfully at her retreating back.
At a point like this, he mused, he shouldn’t be staring at her arse as she left the room. He should be rushing after her, to see if she was all right, to apologize for his insensitivity. But, nope, big ol’ Time Lord brain rattling around in his skull and the only thought that could be bothered to stick around was that his human companion looked gorgeous in her maid’s costume.
He shook his head, clearing it, and dumped his two trays on the large, undoubtedly expensive chest of drawers behind him. He then made his completely unhurried way through the double doors after his companion.
***
Rose was amazed at how easily she had found her way through the house. She had known, almost instinctively, where the garden was, and had found a clear seat beside the back wall without any trouble at all.
The night was brisk, she curled up on the bench for warmth as a cool night breeze scattered goose bumps along her arms. A single tear rolled unheeded down her cheek, splashing on her starched white apron.
The whole thing was just too much for her. She was in another universe, for one thing, and while that wasn’t as mind-blowing as it could have been, it was still weird to be in a place where things were similar enough to lull her into the belief that she was home, but different enough to feel… wrong. The two combined to produce an unpleasant state of perpetual culture shock that sent her head reeling.
But it wasn’t just that; the strange familiarity of this world meant that she was also being constantly assaulted by memories: her father, her father was alive here, in this Universe, he was a success and he had her mum, and everything seemed to have worked out perfectly for them. She knew he was wrong, knew that he was a copy of her dad, not the real thing, but that didn’t stop her from wanting so badly to run to him and hug him and be his daughter.
It was a dangerous feeling, that one. It was the same feeling that had prompted her so long ago to run out into the road and save him from a car accident that, in this universe, had never happened. And she wanted to apologize, yes, more than anything she wanted to apologize for being unsuccessful. For getting it wrong and forcing him to fix it, for something that hadn’t actually happened to him.
Then the Doctor had laughed at her. She had seen herself replaced him her mother’s heart by a dog, never mind that she wasn’t her real mum, never mind that this Jackie had never even mother would-be daughter. The Doctor had laughed when he should have provided comfort. The other Doctor, her first doctor, wouldn’t have laughed. He would have got her out of there and hugged her until it was all right. And while she…liked this new new Doctor, and loved the way that he wasn’t so closed off or angry at the whole Universe all the time, she wished that that constant stability from his previous self had hung around.
The bench creaked with the weight of another body, and an arm wrapped around her shoulders. She turned, already instinctively sure of who it was, and her tear-filled hazel eyes met a pair of completely familiar chocolate brown ones.
“She… she replaced me.” It came out quietly, as another tear rolled down her cheek.
“No she didn’t. She’s not your mother; she doesn’t know what she could have had. I’ve talked to this one, too. Earlier, she called me staff! I mean I know we are staff right now… Well, she isn’t paying us, so technically we’re more like uninvited guests with privileges… well, with access to the kitchens, and uniforms, and rather nifty serving trays, but still!” He was rambling again, off on the always-entertaining topic of Jackie Tyler’s faults.
Rose gave a snuffly laugh and curled further into the Doctor’s comforting embrace. She could hear his double heartbeat from where her head rested on his chest, and smell the uniquely Doctor smell that hadn’t really changed since before. He still smelt of bananas and tea and engine oil and something strange and tingly that she could only assume was time itself. “When you blew up the shop back home, and I had to get a new job, she said it was a good thing ‘cause the shop was giving me ‘airs and graces’!”
The Doctor laughed, squeezing her arm so she was pulled even closer. “Now you should hear her. You’d think she’d been born with a sliver spoon in her mouth!”
Rose giggled, and began to sit up. She was surprised when the Doctor refused to let go, instead pulling her closer so her arms rested on either side of him, so they were hugging while still sat down. Her head rested under his chin, and she felt something press against the top of her head.
“Doctor-?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What’re you doing?”
He seemed to ignore her question, and continued to hold her on the bench, seemingly enjoying their closeness. Which wasn’t odd, they’d been close since the moment she’d stepped on board the TARDIS, but there was something slightly more possessive about the way his arms were clamped around her smaller frame, something warmer about the gentle weight of his cheek on the top of her head.
He plucked at her black skirt where it rested on her knees. “You know,” he muttered, “We should wear costumes for infiltration more often.”
Rose giggled again, and wasn’t sure if the tension had dissipated or risen higher around their suddenly heated little bubble. “Yeah,” She ran a hand up the lapel of his tuxedo jacket, “You look good in a tux.” Where had that come from? She could tell without looking at him that the Doctor was grinning. Great, now his head wouldn’t fit through the TARDIS doors, and he wouldn’t ever quit teasing her about it.
Although, she mused, if that meant he wore this particular outfit more often, then maybe it would be worth it… Her hand ran further up the lapel to idly mess with the bow tie at his throat.
She looked up as his hand loosened its grip on her arm and reached up to capture her own. His eyes were darker than usual, though it might have been the light, and his look was far too intense. She wasn’t sure if it made her want to run and hide or move closer…
But this was the Doctor, and she was Rose, and they didn’t do that sort of thing. So why was he looking at her like she was some sort of meal?
She didn’t know what came over her. Every impulse and voice in her brain was screaming for her to stand up, straighten her outfit, and move away. Moving closer would just complicate everything, screw up the great friendship-thing they had going. But something inside her snapped, and she felt her face moving closer and closer until their lips were just touching.
She was emotional, she was upset and he was in a tuxedo and there was really no way that she was to blame for this one. She was just about to move away, to run away from what she’d just done and that line she’d just crossed… when he started to respond.
They sat like that for what could have been hours but was probably just minutes, kissing and hugging and breaking down every wall that they’d so carefully constructed.
They finally broke apart, desperately needing breath. Rose rested her forehead against The Doctor’s and let out a breathy giggle. “Hello.”
“Hello.” The Doctor’s grin could have powered the whole of London, and Rose found herself mirroring it. She realized now that the tension around them had completely vanished, leaving in its place a kind of warmth and… love, that sent her heart soaring. The Doctor’s grip on her arms had slackened, he now held her tenderly, but Rose found that she had no intention of going anywhere away from him. Not anymore.
A crash shocked them out of their happy little world, and they looked up to see floodlights illuminating the vast lawn. Out of the gloom of the night, there came rows of silver men, crashing their steel feet in unison as they marched towards the house. Their unstoppable, implacable march sent a shiver down Rose’s spine, and they stood together, all thoughts of their former activities gone from their minds.
The Doctor straightened his slightly mauled jacket, squinting out into the garden. The look of terror and foreboding on his face was enough to make Rose immensely scared of the monsters that were emerging from the darkness.
“What are they, Doctor?”
“I’ve seen them before, in a different universe on a different planet, but it was them.”
“Come on, what are they?”
“Cybermen!”
A small, fluffy, Yorkshire terrier came running down the stairs to Jackie Tyler’s feet. “There you are, my darling!” Jackie crooned, as she swept out of the foyer and into the next room, her ridiculously small dog at her feet.
Rose, the real, human Rose, looked up at her best friend, her face caught between anguish, amazement, and a strange amount of hope. She didn’t know how to feel about her alternative mother and father replacing her with a dog, and when she didn’t know something, she turned to the Doctor for help.
Unfortunately, the Doctor was receiving none of her weirded-out, upset signals. All he saw was that Jackie Tyler, the only mother in the Universe ever to have slapped him, was fussing over a tiny mutt that looked more like an oversized rat than a canine. It had been the little bow in the poor thing’s hair that had finally cracked him, though. He saw Rose look up at him, and with that comparison in mind, burst out laughing.
If looks could kill, he would easily have been regenerating right that second. He registered far too late the hurt on Rose’s face. She thrust him the now empty tray in her shaking hands and marched from the room, leaving him staring regretfully at her retreating back.
At a point like this, he mused, he shouldn’t be staring at her arse as she left the room. He should be rushing after her, to see if she was all right, to apologize for his insensitivity. But, nope, big ol’ Time Lord brain rattling around in his skull and the only thought that could be bothered to stick around was that his human companion looked gorgeous in her maid’s costume.
He shook his head, clearing it, and dumped his two trays on the large, undoubtedly expensive chest of drawers behind him. He then made his completely unhurried way through the double doors after his companion.
***
Rose was amazed at how easily she had found her way through the house. She had known, almost instinctively, where the garden was, and had found a clear seat beside the back wall without any trouble at all.
The night was brisk, she curled up on the bench for warmth as a cool night breeze scattered goose bumps along her arms. A single tear rolled unheeded down her cheek, splashing on her starched white apron.
The whole thing was just too much for her. She was in another universe, for one thing, and while that wasn’t as mind-blowing as it could have been, it was still weird to be in a place where things were similar enough to lull her into the belief that she was home, but different enough to feel… wrong. The two combined to produce an unpleasant state of perpetual culture shock that sent her head reeling.
But it wasn’t just that; the strange familiarity of this world meant that she was also being constantly assaulted by memories: her father, her father was alive here, in this Universe, he was a success and he had her mum, and everything seemed to have worked out perfectly for them. She knew he was wrong, knew that he was a copy of her dad, not the real thing, but that didn’t stop her from wanting so badly to run to him and hug him and be his daughter.
It was a dangerous feeling, that one. It was the same feeling that had prompted her so long ago to run out into the road and save him from a car accident that, in this universe, had never happened. And she wanted to apologize, yes, more than anything she wanted to apologize for being unsuccessful. For getting it wrong and forcing him to fix it, for something that hadn’t actually happened to him.
Then the Doctor had laughed at her. She had seen herself replaced him her mother’s heart by a dog, never mind that she wasn’t her real mum, never mind that this Jackie had never even mother would-be daughter. The Doctor had laughed when he should have provided comfort. The other Doctor, her first doctor, wouldn’t have laughed. He would have got her out of there and hugged her until it was all right. And while she…liked this new new Doctor, and loved the way that he wasn’t so closed off or angry at the whole Universe all the time, she wished that that constant stability from his previous self had hung around.
The bench creaked with the weight of another body, and an arm wrapped around her shoulders. She turned, already instinctively sure of who it was, and her tear-filled hazel eyes met a pair of completely familiar chocolate brown ones.
“She… she replaced me.” It came out quietly, as another tear rolled down her cheek.
“No she didn’t. She’s not your mother; she doesn’t know what she could have had. I’ve talked to this one, too. Earlier, she called me staff! I mean I know we are staff right now… Well, she isn’t paying us, so technically we’re more like uninvited guests with privileges… well, with access to the kitchens, and uniforms, and rather nifty serving trays, but still!” He was rambling again, off on the always-entertaining topic of Jackie Tyler’s faults.
Rose gave a snuffly laugh and curled further into the Doctor’s comforting embrace. She could hear his double heartbeat from where her head rested on his chest, and smell the uniquely Doctor smell that hadn’t really changed since before. He still smelt of bananas and tea and engine oil and something strange and tingly that she could only assume was time itself. “When you blew up the shop back home, and I had to get a new job, she said it was a good thing ‘cause the shop was giving me ‘airs and graces’!”
The Doctor laughed, squeezing her arm so she was pulled even closer. “Now you should hear her. You’d think she’d been born with a sliver spoon in her mouth!”
Rose giggled, and began to sit up. She was surprised when the Doctor refused to let go, instead pulling her closer so her arms rested on either side of him, so they were hugging while still sat down. Her head rested under his chin, and she felt something press against the top of her head.
“Doctor-?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What’re you doing?”
He seemed to ignore her question, and continued to hold her on the bench, seemingly enjoying their closeness. Which wasn’t odd, they’d been close since the moment she’d stepped on board the TARDIS, but there was something slightly more possessive about the way his arms were clamped around her smaller frame, something warmer about the gentle weight of his cheek on the top of her head.
He plucked at her black skirt where it rested on her knees. “You know,” he muttered, “We should wear costumes for infiltration more often.”
Rose giggled again, and wasn’t sure if the tension had dissipated or risen higher around their suddenly heated little bubble. “Yeah,” She ran a hand up the lapel of his tuxedo jacket, “You look good in a tux.” Where had that come from? She could tell without looking at him that the Doctor was grinning. Great, now his head wouldn’t fit through the TARDIS doors, and he wouldn’t ever quit teasing her about it.
Although, she mused, if that meant he wore this particular outfit more often, then maybe it would be worth it… Her hand ran further up the lapel to idly mess with the bow tie at his throat.
She looked up as his hand loosened its grip on her arm and reached up to capture her own. His eyes were darker than usual, though it might have been the light, and his look was far too intense. She wasn’t sure if it made her want to run and hide or move closer…
But this was the Doctor, and she was Rose, and they didn’t do that sort of thing. So why was he looking at her like she was some sort of meal?
She didn’t know what came over her. Every impulse and voice in her brain was screaming for her to stand up, straighten her outfit, and move away. Moving closer would just complicate everything, screw up the great friendship-thing they had going. But something inside her snapped, and she felt her face moving closer and closer until their lips were just touching.
She was emotional, she was upset and he was in a tuxedo and there was really no way that she was to blame for this one. She was just about to move away, to run away from what she’d just done and that line she’d just crossed… when he started to respond.
They sat like that for what could have been hours but was probably just minutes, kissing and hugging and breaking down every wall that they’d so carefully constructed.
They finally broke apart, desperately needing breath. Rose rested her forehead against The Doctor’s and let out a breathy giggle. “Hello.”
“Hello.” The Doctor’s grin could have powered the whole of London, and Rose found herself mirroring it. She realized now that the tension around them had completely vanished, leaving in its place a kind of warmth and… love, that sent her heart soaring. The Doctor’s grip on her arms had slackened, he now held her tenderly, but Rose found that she had no intention of going anywhere away from him. Not anymore.
A crash shocked them out of their happy little world, and they looked up to see floodlights illuminating the vast lawn. Out of the gloom of the night, there came rows of silver men, crashing their steel feet in unison as they marched towards the house. Their unstoppable, implacable march sent a shiver down Rose’s spine, and they stood together, all thoughts of their former activities gone from their minds.
The Doctor straightened his slightly mauled jacket, squinting out into the garden. The look of terror and foreboding on his face was enough to make Rose immensely scared of the monsters that were emerging from the darkness.
“What are they, Doctor?”
“I’ve seen them before, in a different universe on a different planet, but it was them.”
“Come on, what are they?”
“Cybermen!”