Show- Doctor Who (10/Rose)
Disclaimer- I want Detective Carlisle. That's all.
Prompt- #14 Unruly (948wrds)
Summary- The Doctor ponders on the body. His body. Wouldn't we all?
A/N/- Happy!Who fic.
After 900 years and ten regenerations he had come to acknowledge the body and personality that he was given without too much fuss.
One of his regenerations had been slightly portly and he’d accepted that.
Another had been a miserable sod and he’d embraced that too.
The blond curls had irritated him but he’d taken to it eventually.
The foppish bard look had taken surprisingly little time to get used to, but perhaps the appreciative looks of Romana had helped somewhat.
The tall blond Cambridge persona had been acceptable, if slightly moody; he’d grown into his ninth pair of ears, and the least said about each regeneration’s fashion sense the better.
He was, however, slightly curious about how he came to be looking younger with each regeneration. He’d often wondered if perhaps the process was somewhat empathic.
After Susan left and he’d died, his second regeneration was younger, perhaps more in tune with his desire to have adventures and be less of a grandfather figure.
His banishment to Earth had left one of his regenerations with the desire to enjoy all that life had to offer—hence the slightly tubby regeneration another time.
He’d known that one of his companions had a thing about cricket and he was, understandably, perturbed when he became fanatically cricket-mad in his next regeneration.
The death of his entire species made his ninth self dark, scary and thug-like in an oddly attractive way. At least that was what Rose thought.
This time, when he’d first looked in the mirror he’d seen a pretty boy and wondered what Rose’s reaction would be.
This body, with its slim build and rangy athleticism was actually quite nice as bodies went.
He liked the fact that his ears could no longer pick up short wave radio and he was thin enough to slide under rapidly closing airlock doors. The slight weakness in his wrist had been taken care of by the Sycorax and he loved his new mole. He thought his wide grin was his best feature and he felt cheeky every time he winked.
He hadn’t been cheeky in a good long while. It’d take some getting used to.
One thing he wasn’t sure he could get used to was the mop of top of his head.
He ran his fingers through it again and glared at himself in the mirror.
It wouldn’t lay flat, it looked ridiculous spiked, and it flopped into his face and wouldn’t be cut. It just stuck out at all angles like a case of spinal dysfunction on a Miloped from the gamma quadrant and it was bugging him. He’d almost rather be bald.
He yanked at his fringe and sighed heavily.
“You know I reckon you’re much vainer this time around.”
He looked at Rose in the mirror and pulled a face. “I’m not!”
Rose shrugged. “I ain't saying it’s a bad thing. At least you change clothes more often.”
“Hmm.” He ignored her in favour of glaring at himself again.
“What?” Rose came up behind him, watching him as he watched her in the mirror.
“There’s something …” he sighed. “Oh, forget it.”
Rose frowned in thought. “The suit’s nice.”
“It’s not the suit.” He ran a hand over his chin and winced. He had to shave more in this body too. It was like all his hair was in revolt.
“Well, the trainers are a bit odd.”
He shot her a glare. “It’s not the trainers.”
He bit his lip and pulled on a lock of hair. “Don’t you think it’s a bit…”
“Fluffy? Not exactly dignified Time Lord to have this… this unruly mass on top of my head. I swear it grows every time I’m not looking.”
Rose’s lips twitched. “You’re checking out your hair?”
He shifted his shoulders defensively. “Well, it’s not like I’ve had any for a while. It was nice being almost bald you know, never had to worry about washing it more than a quick rinse and go, never had to bother about hair-cuts or styles. I mean you try having 900 year old follicles and going to barbers—the scissors take one look at you and break.” Off her incredulous look he shut up. “Besides you can talk, Rose Tyler, the TARDIS never had this many mirrors on it before you, you know.”
“I’m a girl,” she reminded him, smoothing her blonde hair into place, “it’s kind of expected.”
“Yeah.” He grabbed his coat from where it lay over the edge of the mirror. “Enough fashion tips anyway. We’re due a visit to Earth 34th century, a fantastic era, full of banana groves.”
Rose shook her head as she headed for the door. “You’ve got a problem.”
He simply gave her a manic grin and started to pull on his coat.
She paused as she reached the door. “Doctor?”
“I like it.” She smiled and clarified. “Your hair. I like it.”
He stared at her. “Really?” His eyes begged her not to be joking.
“It’s …” she bit her lip and he took that to mean that she couldn’t think of anything positive to say about it.
“Unruly?” he offered gloomily.
“Wild,” she decided with a grin. “Unrestrained.” She stuck her tongue between her teeth. “Sexy.”
His eyebrows rose. “Sexy?”
“Kind of ‘just-got-out-of bed-and-wanna-get-back’ sexy.” She laughed. “It’s good.”
“My hair makes you think of bed?” His tone was low and Rose flushed.
“Yep, definitely vainer!” She rolled her eyes and walked away, a wiggle to her hips.
The Doctor watched appreciatively before turning back to the mirror and running his fingers through his rumpled hair.
That he could deal with.