A set of drabbles prompted by song titles on my iTunes. Much Doctor/Rose love. Enjoy!
Let Myself Fall
Turn about is fair play.
She is sick to her stomach just thinking about it: That she had been secretly happy that she was the one with the Doctor now. She wasn't Sarah Jane. She was sure she wasn't going to be. After all, he said, "No, not to you." After all, she had said, "Forever."
That was yesterday. Today she is Sarah Jane. Tomorrow, the Doctor will still be the Doctor.
Mickey is shouting, and she is silent. No way home. No way out. She let him go, anyway. Just like Sarah Jane.
Turn about is fair play.
Drops of Jupiter
They very rarely fight. Correction: They never fight. Yet somehow he's broken her favorite mug, and the pieces won't come together again. No matter how hard they try. The fight becomes a slow-motion train wreck: It becomes one thing, and then another, bigger and bigger. It wouldn't stop becoming worse.
"I told you to be careful with it!"
"I was, I was careful with it! It just fell."
"It was my Dad's!" She's picking up the shards now. "I'm careful with your things all the time, why can't you do with mine?"
He falls silent, and she wonders if it is the mug they are really fighting about.
"Sometimes it helps," the Hologram says to her, "If you get to express your feelings in some way. One of the methods Holograms do is," suddenly the Hologram shifts, and then suddenly, he looks like the Doctor.
"…they change into the person you need to express yourself to." He finishes in the Doctor's voice. He smiles at Rose's stunned expression. "It's an effective psychiatric method."
Rose suddenly leans in, grabs him by the back of his neck, and plants the deepest, most passionate kiss her young life knows. When they pull back, she notes with a little triumph—that even the Hologram is reeling.
On the Radio
Hologram-Doctor sits there opposite her, just smiling, not saying anything as she babbles on about Mickey, and her mum, and somehow, she ends up talking about the differences of Japanese tea and English tea.
Finally, she says, "Say something."
He shrugs. "I like the sound of your voice. We're all radio here. Yours is different. I like it."
"But I'm just babbling like here on my own. I'm feeling a little silly."
He looks slightly confused. "I thought you needed to talk."
She shakes her head and smiles. "The Doctor talks back. A lot. He's not all radio, I'm afraid."
They take a little time off to attend Mickey's wedding. The Doctor whines and complains, but she knows he's secretly thrilled to be invited. He keeps the scented blue invitation, with THE DOCTOR written in gold lettering, in his dinner jacket.
At the reception, they have a few drinks, and they dance. They throw up their arms, shout and hoot at each other and laugh. The music abruptly downshifts into a slow dance and suddenly he puts his arms around her.
"Nice wedding." he says irrelevantly.
"That's a first."
"Apart from the smelly invitation and the lack of karaoke."
She laughs against his shirt.
Everybody Wants to Rule the World
"I don't understand this incessant need of the villains to want to take over the world." He gestures wildly on the screen. "All this mess you live in, it's going to be mostly work. Most of you can't even clean your own rooms."
"That's true." She plops right next to him, two bowls of ice cream in her hands. She gives him one. "But it would look very impressive on your CV."
He dips a spoon in his ice cream. "Better savior than ruler." He says. "More parties, less evil mua-ha-ha-ing."
"But the evil mua-ha-ha-ing's the whole point of it all!" she giggles.
Portions for Foxes
She used to be so jealous. Everyone in the universe was so odd, and so beautiful. So like him. So unlike herself.
And all I ever wanted was a little piece of you, the singer sang softly to her. She ran her hands over the beautiful old jukebox he got for her. All the songs in the galaxy: songs to dance to, songs to cry to.
She listened to Earth music first, then further out—a whole galaxy unfurling out in her own special place in the TARDIS. She found she loved them all.
She would need another heart for herself, soon.
Dirty Little Secret
Of course he says he's too clever to dream, the whole of his brain busily working all the time. No time to for it to go traipsing about in some imagined dream world when there were more fascinating and unimaginable places to go to.
One morning, Rose simply says, "I dreamt about you last night."
"Sure it wasn't a nightmare?" he jokes.
She looks at him sleepily, not getting the joke. "No. It was nice, though. We went to Barcelona with my dad. You were wearing pyjamas." She smiled brightly, remembering, as if it really had happened.
He sees the attraction to dreaming, now.
He says, "I've met The Little Prince, you know. The actual one. Likes to wander the desert, funny little thing."
Her eyes grow wide, disbelieving. "You did not!"
He pretends to look hurt. "When are you going to start believing in me and be impressed already?"
"When you stop being so daft."
"But it's true. Volcanoes and everything. He was lovely!"
"Hmph." She raises an eyebrow, remembering something. "What happened to his rose?"
She doesn't see his face turn somber, hear him say softly, She died. He turns to her and grins cheekily, saying instead, "Why don't you tell me?"
With a Smile
The first time the Doctor sees Rose was when she almost ran him over with her bicycle. She was quick enough for both of them, thankfully.
She jumps from her bike quickly. "Oi!" she yells, a bit shaken. She's wearing pigtails. "Are you alright?"
He smiles. "Better than anyone who's almost been run over by a bicycle can ever hope to be."
"I'm so sorry." She stands there, anxious. He waves it away and moves on. In the next twenty-four hours, there are no bigger adventures. Just a girl on a bike who almost ran him over. He likes the sound of that.
He remembers it always.