Show/Ship- Doctor Who. Nine/Rose
Disclaimer- I really want Detective Carlisle. Or Casanova. I'm not fussy.
Prompt- #1 Band-aid
Summary- Rose has had a really really bad day. Can she convince the Doctor to make it better?
A/N- Part and parcel of the Happy!Who fic challenge. Really not where i intended to go with this prompt and I'm not entirely happy with it. But there we go.
Rose knew full well that he was trying to hide a smirk and she glared at him, irritation apparent in her gaze. “Pack it in!”
His lips twitched again and he turned his head away, unusually sensitive to her growing anger. “Sorry.”
“Not,” she mumbled and stomped ahead, pushing mud-slicked hair away from her face.
“Rose!” he called. “I really didn’t know!”
She rounded on him. “Didn’t know! You’re telling me that you had no idea that shaking hands with a bloke meant that we were engaged?”
“That ‘bloke’ was the crown Prince,” he replied, scratching the back of his head in amusement. “And no I didn’t. Not really.”
Her eyes narrowed, pinning him with her suspicions. His avoidance of her stare was reinforcing those suspicions ands her ire was growing “Not really?”
“Well, I mean not know as such, more as in not … remember.”
Rose’s jaw dropped. “Not remember?”
“Sort of, yeah.” The Doctor shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “I visit a lot of planets, Rose. Can’t remember all the customs on every one. Even I’m not that impressive.”
She rolled her eyes. He was such a plank sometimes.
The Doctor was still talking, unaware that she was ready and willing to give him another Tyler-tinged slap.
“Although it’s a good thing you didn’t breathe heavily on him otherwise you’d have been married then and there… or arrested, can’t remember which.”
Rose fought the urge to take off her boots, just for something to throw at him.
His bad memory had resulted in the Crown Prince of Greater Wexelton deciding that she was better breeding stock than the usual bovine-faced girls that littered his court. Even a polite “Not in a million years” had managed to get her out of it and she’d been chased, groped and fondled by the Crown Prince, scratched climbing out of a window, bruised by the fall off a horse, twisted an ankle stomping over a field, battered as she fell down a hill, covered in mud, covered in slime, sunk up to her ankle in swamp and scared to death by the Doctor materialising in the middle of nowhere.
She wanted a hot bath, a cup of tea, a bar of chocolate and to give the Doctor a good kick. In any order.
Instead she gave a strangled scream and stormed off, back to the TARDIS.
It would have been a really great exit except for the stone that suddenly materialised in her path and tripped her up.
Rose fell face first to the floor and decided to stay there. It was probably safer.
The frantic footsteps of the Doctor reassured her somewhat.
“’m fine,” she muttered, closing her eyes as she rolled over.
She heard him laugh once and then his hands were drifting over her arms and legs, checking for breaks.
His fingers touched her knee and she hissed as a deep aching throb told her that she’d banged it harder than she thought.
“I hate this planet,” she said conversationally, “even the rocks are out to get me.”
“Poor baby,” the Doctor’s voice was full of amusement. “But think how those poor rocks felt. All safe and happy in the sun and then some daft ape comes along and kick’s ‘em.”
She opened one eye and pinned him with a glare. “Watch me laugh.”
He gave her a lop-sided grin and helped her to her feet.
“Ow!” She cursed as she leaned heavily on her injured knee. Her expression of pain turned to one of disgust as she felt something trickle down her leg and the denim of jeans start to go dark.
“You’re bleeding,” the Doctor said unnecessarily.
Rose rolled her eyes. “I see how you got your medical degree.”
“Oi!” He pointed at her. “Just for that you can walk back to the TARDIS!”
Rose pouted, fluttering her eyelashes and giving him her very best puppy-dog eyes.
He looked away.
Rose hid a grin at the strained look on his face. Oh, he really couldn’t deny her anything and he knew it.
She took a step and jolted forward as her knee gave way. Before she could hit the ground the Doctor had her in his arms.
“Oh, very Richard Gere,” Rose pretended to swoon.
“I can put you down, ya know!” he said in annoyance.
Rose tightened her arms around his neck and beamed into his blue eyes.
“Besides I was thinking more Rhett Butler,” he added with his usual mercurial mood change.
The Doctor stared at her. “How can you be so ignorant of your own culture?”
Rose waited a beat and then burst out laughing at the disgruntled look on his face. “Sorry, Rhett,” she said in her best southern accent. “But tomorrow is another day!”
“And tomorrow I’ll find another swamp to dump you in,” he challenged as he tried to juggle her and the TARDIS key. He finally managed to open the door without dropping her.
“Do and you’d best sleep with one eye open!”
The Doctor ignored her inept threat as he carried her into the medical room, dumping her unceremoniously onto the cool steel table.
She hissed as the action jolted her knee and he gave her an apologetic look as he searched for something in the drawers next to the table.
Rose yanked up her jeans leg and winced at the scraped skin.
“Why is it that I can twist my ankle, damage my wrist and have more bruises than I can count and yet one little scrape hurts so flipping much?”
“Cuz you’re human and that makes you a wimp.”
Rose glared at the back of his leather jacket and considered throwing something at him. She was within reach of her boots now and it would be so easy to unzip one and aim it at his head.
She plastered a smile on her face as he turned around and vowed to get her revenge some other way.
There was that outfit that she hadn’t dared to wear yet. That’d teach him.
He held something in his hands as he came over and she craned her neck to see what it was. Dermal re-whatsit? Skin grafty-thing? Maybe it was even some of those epidermal configure-whosits.
He sat at her feet and reached for a metal tray. He placed a few items on it and pulled her go towards him.
“Rose Tyler, I swear I’ve not had a companion as jeopardy friendly as you. You’re like a one woman wrecking crew.”
“Oi!” Rose protested. “I’m not that bad.”
“You told me to press the button!” Rose was indignant as he picked up a piece of white paper.
“Oh and I created robotic spiders to incinerate myself, did I? Oww!”
He rolled his eyes as he gently slid the alcohol wipe over her scratched knee. “Baby.”
Rose glowered. “So says Mr. Sensitive. Cut yourself shaving and moan for the rest of the day. Although why you do when you spend so much time staring in a mirror, anyone’d think you hadn’t had that face for 900 years.”
“Its hard being this devastatingly attractive,” he shot back, “bound to get distracted.”
Rose responded to that the only way she could.
She ignored it.
“Besides,” she continued, “when I first met you, you blew up my job, busted the coffee table and then you broke the London Eye. Then you decimated Platform one, that house in 1869, Downing Street … I’m surprised the TARDIS is still standing, rate you go.”
“I’m gentle with my girls.”
His grin combined with the intense look in his eye when he glanced at her could have melted steel.
It was doing wondrous things to Rose’s insides.
He finished wiping the blood off her leg and added softly. “This might sting.”
Rose frowned but he leaned forward and blew gently on the damp knee.
His breath was cool against the moisture and the tiny hairs on her leg bristled and tingled. Goosebumps appeared on her flesh and she shivered, a delicious finger of desire caressing her spine.
The look he gave her then made her sure that he knew what he was doing to her and she caught her breath.
The moment lingered and she knew she had to do something to break it or jump him and risk getting chucked off the TARDIS.
“Ya know you said if you breathe heavily on someone like that you get married.”
Bugger. Not what she meant to say, but it had the same effect.
“Or arrested.” He moved away and she could exhale.
She watched as he busied himself around the table before coming back with a sticking plaster. He sat back down and pulled her leg to him again, his rough callused palm sliding against her calve.
As she watched him it dawned on her that he was touching her more now than he had in the past few weeks and he had looked genuinely pleased to see her when she had arrived in the swamp. The look on his face as he had been escorted out of the Crown Prince’s realm and told to forget his companion, who would become the King’s concubine, had been murderous.
Maybe, just maybe, it had shaken him up enough for her to finally get what she had been hoping for, for so long.
He stuck the plaster to her leg, pressed it gently with his fingertips and backed away, a proud smile on his face. “All done.”
He gave her an expectant look and she just stared.
“What?” He jammed his hands into his pockets and she could have sworn they were clenched.
From touching her? Maybe it was time to take a risk.
“Well, go on then.” She gestured to her knee.
He frowned, a little crease appearing on his forehead. “What?”
His confusion was all kinds of adorable and she was going to enjoy bating him on this.
“You said you know all about human rituals and that.”
“Yeah, dead brainy me.”
“Well you missed a step.” She bit back a grin, running her tongue along her teeth in anticipation of what he’d say.
He glanced at the tiny slip of tongue and his expression cleared somewhat. He knew now that she was teasing him and he also knew that he was helpless where she was concerned. Better just to go along for the ride and pick the pieces up afterwards.
That was getting to be his usual response to Rose Tyler.
“Clean the wound, eradicate debris and chance of infection, apply bandage… well, band-aid in this situation. American word that. Band-aid. Sounds like the guy who runs behind the marching band picking up after the trombone player.”
“Then…” she prompted, waggling her legs towards him.
He shrugged, lost.
Rose sighed. “Some Doctor you are.”
“’s’not my fault you forgot the most important part.”
He folded his arms, seeing the look on her face and knowing that he was about to be seriously manipulated. Expected it. Delighted in it.
Rose had him. She knew it. He knew it. Now she had to go in for the kill.
“Then you kiss it better.”