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Fic: Blummph
Title: Blummph
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
goldy_dollar and mrv3000
Pairing: Nine/Rose
Rating: PG
Summary: The Doctor and Rose both catch colds.
Betas: Thanks tobeck_liz! And to doctor_addict and brookeormian for Britpicking!
A/N: Set shortly after "World War Three." Approximately 3,500 words of fluff. Really, just fluff that goes on for a while. :D
Blummph.
Rose opened her eyes to the dim light in the room, her head pounding.
Blummph. Again.
Maybe she could call it her room now. After all, anything over a week and there could be some sort of claim, right?
She sneezed.
Lovely. A cold. Some impressive human she turned out to be – hardly any time travelling with the Doctor, and she went and got ill.
Rose pulled the blankets over her head. Alien blankets, she supposed. Of course, the Doctor did seem to really like Earth, so maybe he'd picked them up somewhere. It was more fun to think they were alien though. Maybe from that planet they were just on...
ALIEN!
Rose sat up straight and instantly regretted it, putting a hand to her head.
What if she had some sort of alien cold that wasn't actually a cold but did something weird to her? Like she'd turn orange or something? Or... would make her nose fall off?!
Getting out of bed, she grabbed some clothes out of her bag. She dressed quickly, deciding to skip the shoes, partly because everything was in a big jumble and she didn't feel like she'd be able to sort out a matching pair at the moment. She padded out in socked feet and after only one wrong turn, she was in the giant console room.
There was a sneeze from the direction of the controls. Rose found the Doctor on his back, poking at some wires with his sonic screwdriver. He sneezed again.
"Thank God," Rose said, flopping down by his legs.
"Oh, hello. And why are we thankful this morning?" the Doctor asked, sounding stuffed up himself.
"My nose isn't going to fall off."
The Doctor stopped fiddling and stared at her. "Of all the things I could have possibly thought you were going to say."
Rose decided his bent-up knee was a good place to prop up her head. "You're ill and you aren't worried, and so I don't have some alien disease that will make my nose fall off."
"Or perhaps I've made peace with my imminent nose loss."
Rose closed her eyes. "I guess I should make my peace then, too."
"Bye, Rose's nose."
"Bye, nose." She opened her eyes again. "Why are you working?"
"Why not?"
"You're sick. You're supposed to watch telly and drink juice and eat soup. It's like a universal law or something."
"Oh, universal law, eh?" He sat up and Rose lost her head-prop.
Rose frowned.
"What?"
"Aren't you supposed to be this amazing Time Lord? Don't you have some sort of little instant cure pill for a cold?"
"Supposed to be?" The Doctor stood up and then pulled Rose up as well. "I'll have you know that statues have been carved of me! The people of Narh Seven have an annual three-day festival in my honour! Supposed to be!"
"Yeah, yeah. The cold?"
The Doctor sniffed. "No, no cure for the cold."
"Then telly, juice and soup it is. Come on."
***
She pulled the Doctor along by the sleeve of his jacket. He looked skeptical.
"Do you know where we're going?" he asked.
"Course I do!" she said. "Just... down there, yeah?"
She gestured vaguely in front of her and was relieved when they stumbled into a kitchen only moments later. At least, she hoped it was a kitchen. The first time she'd found it, the Doctor had smiled in a way that indicated it could have been a kitchen or something completely alien and impractical like an escape pod. Since then, she half expected to be ejected from the TARDIS when she pressed the button to use the microwave.
Rose pointed at the table and said, "Sit."
He raised his eyebrows, but sat down. He leaned back in the chair and sent her a speculative look.
Rose blushed under his stare – and then dissolved into a fit of painful coughs.
"Might want to try some water," the Doctor suggested.
"You are so useless," Rose said, snorting and snuffling her way to the stove. She boiled what she hoped would turn into chicken soup and made a valiant effort not to die.
When she returned to the table, the Doctor had stuck two rolled tissues up his nose. He grinned at her proudly, raising his eyebrows as if to say: "Bet you wish you'd thought of this first!"
Rose frowned at him. It seemed like cheating in some way.
"Soup," she declared, plunking a bowl down in front of him.
The Doctor stared into it sceptically. "This is soup?"
"Yeah, it is!" Rose said. She turned around to get herself a portion. "So what if it's mostly water and noodles? That's what you're supposed to eat when you're sick. Mickey used to make it for me all the time."
The Doctor choked.
Rose wrinkled her nose. "Doctor?"
"This soup comes from Mickey?"
Rose shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"
The Doctor looked grumpy. "Nothing."
Rose blinked when he abandoned his soup and crawled under the table, folding his hands behind his head and staring up at it like the table held all the secrets to the universe.
Rose glanced back at her soup and considered. Shrugging, Rose left her bowl on the stove and went to join him.
The floor was cold against the back of her neck. After fidgeting, she decided to mimic the Doctor's pose and folded her hands under her head.
"We're under a table," Rose finally stated. She honestly wasn't sure why she bothered pointing it out. The reason could be anything from: "I was sleepy!" to "I'm defeating an alien threat on the ceiling by hiding."
"Seemed like the thing to do," the Doctor said. He shifted and then shoved one of the tissues further up his nose.
Rose made a face. The better question was probably why she had followed his under-the-table example.
"The soup comes from Mickey," the Doctor said. Again.
Rose rolled her eyes. "Well, it's not like it was poisoned or nothing."
The Doctor harumphed in a way that indicated that the mere mention of Mickey's name would be more than enough to poison the soup.
His next question caught her off-guard.
"Do you miss him?"
Rose fidgeted uncomfortably. "Dunno," she said. "Haven't really thought about it."
He made a non-committal noise and didn't say anything.
"I mean, yeah. Guess I do. Sometimes." Rose pinched the bridge of her nose in hopes of stemming the flow of mucus. It did not help. "Why?
He turned his head to look at her, his eyes unreadable. Rose unconsciously sucked in a breath.
"You have enough wardrobe space? Chest of drawers? The TARDIS can make more."
"Um..." He was making her head spin more than the cold was. "Haven't had a chance to unpack, really." It was only a white lie: there were always more interesting things to do than to organize her socks.
Something flashed across the Doctor's face before turning to look at the table again.
"Telly!" he said, breaking out into a smile.
Rose stared at him. "I'm sorry?"
"Telly," he repeated. He patted her on the back of her hand. "That was the plan, wasn't it? And I'll tell you what, Rose Tyler. The TARDIS picks up broadcasting signals from all over this universe."
Rose smiled, thoughts of Mickey and socks fleeing her mind. "Oh, yeah?"
The Doctor nodded seriously. "Have you ever seen a Brazilian Telenovela?"
"I don't think so," Rose said. "Are they any good?"
"Terrible," the Doctor said. He gave a mock-shudder. "Bound to scare the germs right out of us. Just what the doctor ordered."
Rose rolled her eyes. "No, you did not just say that."
"What do you think?" the Doctor continued.
Rose pretended to think about it. "Take the tissues out of your nose first," she said. "And I want blankets. Two of them!"
The Doctor grinned.
***
Rose wrinkled her nose at the retro-looking remote. It was like something they had when she was five, clearly remembering it because she had decided to give it a bath. It definitely didn't belong on some high-tech alien space ship and didn't seem to go with the giant screen in the wall.
She flipped past channel after channel. The universe really liked quiz shows. And dance competitions. Loads of those. She stopped on a channel where there were two large...things. Sort of big green leafy bushes, but obviously not bushes since they could move around. She thought about Jabe, but these things weren't human-looking at all. Maybe an ancestor or something? There wasn't any talking, just odd, but relaxing, music. Actually, the whole thing was relaxing in a hypnotic sort of way. She propped her head up with her hand and stared.
A very loud throat-clearing by the Doctor practically made her jump. He stood in the doorway, blankets in his arms and very, very wide eyes.
"Oh, hey. Found some dance competition. Or maybe it's a nature program. I'm not really sure." Rose looked back at the screen. "But it's nice."
"Not nature. Or dancing, per se." The Doctor dumped the blankets on the sofa and swiped the remote out of her hand. "How about something else?"
"Awww." Rose pouted and sniffed, the sniffing more out of necessity.
"Uh, Rose? This is..."
"Yeah?"
The Doctor shifted feet, non-cold-related colour on his cheeks. "Well, you see, when two people love each other very much..."
Rose sat straight up. "Oh, my god! It's plant porn!"
"Not really plants..."
"You have plant porn on your telly!"
"It's not like I subscribe!"
Rose smirked and raised an eyebrow at him.
"I don't! The TARDIS gets everything! Really!"
"Have to say, I've never heard the 'my spaceship ordered the porn' excuse before," she teased.
He reached over and threw a blanket at her head. "Changing the channel now."
Rose pulled the blanket from her head and wrapped it around her. "Doctor, where's this from?"
"Can we please stop talking about the so-called plant...you know?"
"No, the blanket, you nutter."
"Ah." He flopped down next to her. "That's from...somewhere in Kent, I think."
"Hmm. And yours?"
He looked at her quizzically. "Picked this one up in London."
Rose frowned. "Earth blankets, then."
"You want a non-Earth blanket? Rose, have I ever mentioned that you're a bit odd?"
"Am not," Rose muttered except that it sounded more like "A'b not."
Sniffing, she let her head droop against the Doctor's arm (shoulder? It was bony in a shoulder-y sort of way) and tried to focus on the television. Very colourful, she decided. She had no idea what was going on. She tried to focus. Something about pyramids?
"OH! What a lie!" The Doctor grabbed a tissue from the near-by table and shoved it on his face. "Complete poseur."
Rose winced as her head jostled uncomfortably. "Will you hold still? I'm trying to keep back all the snot."
"Landing pads," the Doctor snorted. "It doesn't take a genius to tell that they're meant to be prisons, originally hooked up to a space-time tunnel to Mars. At least he got the alien part right. Half credit."
Rose yawned, only half-listening. He wasn't making a very good pillow.
Suddenly, an idea struck her and she sat up. She started digging through her pockets.
"Rose...?" The Doctor looked hurt that she was no longer resting on him, but she ignored him and finally emerged with her mobile. She started dialling. His voice turned more suspicious. "Rose, who are you calling?"
She shushed him as the phone rang on the other end. "Hello?"
"Mum!" Rose said, feeling a surge of relief. Of course her mum would know what to do. "Mum, I need your help."
The Doctor's reaction was immediate. He sprung up from the sofa and started pacing, shooting her a dark look. "What'd you go and do that for?" he mouthed.
She pressed her fingers to her lips. Jackie had all ready begun wailing on the other side of the phone.
"What's wrong, sweetheart? You're not in trouble, are you? Is it the Doctor? Has he done anything? If he has, I'll break both his kneecaps, mark my words--"
"No, no," Rose said. "Nothing like that."
The Doctor stopped pacing and cocked his head to listen. He looked like he wasn't sure whether to stay still or run away.
Rose almost laughed and her nose made a noise that sounded like a tea kettle going off. "I'b poorly. And so's the Doctor. We're both ill. It's rubbish."
The Doctor frowned. "We were learning Egyptian history!" he protested. "What's so rubbish about that?"
Jackie made some crooning noises in the back of her throat and then said, "Good cup of tea! That's what you need. Tea and a nice dollop of honey. It's what your Gran always made for me."
The Doctor started pacing again, folding and unfolding his arms like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.
"You need to rest," Jackie continued. "Tea and rest! A good sleep and you'll be good as new, sweetheart. Why don't you come home for a few days until your better? You can sleep in your own bed. How's that sound?"
Rose folded her hand over the mouthpiece and looked at the Doctor. "Mum says we could go stay with her for a few days."
His eyes widened and he backed into the television, shaking his head.
"Just 'till we're better," Rose added.
The Doctor twitched. Then, a light came into his eyes. "You know what, Rose?"
She blinked at him. "What?"
Jackie was still talking on the other end of the phone. "...does the Doctor sleep? Or is it like in those vampire movies? You know, the ones where they stay in coffins and only come out at night? Is he like that? Oooh... I could start feeding you garlic..."
"I," the Doctor stood up straighter and Rose was nearly certain he puffed out his chest, "am not just brilliant, I am very brilliant. And if there's one thing I should be able to do, it's cure the common cold."
Rose nodded, beginning to feel excited. Still, she figured he'd need a push in the right direction. "Dunno," she said, shrugging a shoulder. "Seems like just about everyone's tried. And you said it yourself, Doctor. No cure. Guess we're gonna have to go to my mum's."
"Oh, no we're not, Rose. And you know why? Nothing can be impossible. Not the TARDIS, not time travel, and certainly not a cure for the common cold."
He finished his speech by sneezing a handful of mucus into a tissue.
Rose began to hope this cure would not take him long.
"...I've got twelve episodes of Eastenders on tape, Rose," Jackie was saying. "Won't that be nice? It's been a while since we've done a marathon, hasn't it? And the Doctor strikes me as someone who watches too much telly. What d'you think?"
Filled with determination, the Doctor grabbed a handful of tissues, and then made his way down the corridor with the sonic screwdriver buzzing out in front of him, muttering something about "antiretroviral therapy" and "stopping the mutations mid-sequence."
Rose felt a thrill of satisfaction. "That's great, Mum," she said, cutting Jackie off mid-sentence. "Gonna go get some tea now. Love you!"
She clicked her phone off and then settled back down under the blankets. She was betting that after being threatened with her mum, Doctor would have a cure in an hour. Two, tops.
***
Rose woke up, slumped over on the sofa. She groggily opened her eyes to look at the TV, which was now on some program where a dog was interviewing a cat. Or she might have finally gone delirious.
She had no idea how long she'd been asleep. Maybe the Doctor was finished with the cure. No, that couldn't be right, otherwise he'd be giving it to her right now. Rose rubbed her tongue across her dry mouth. Oh, right. She'd meant to get tea before she fell asleep. Tea and then the Doctor. Sounded like a plan.
Shortly she had two mugs in hand and shuffled off down a hallway in the direction of some clunking noises. Clunking noise seemed promising. And then there was a Doctor-sounding sneeze. Definitely in the right place.
"'lo," she said, walking into a room that looked like a lab. A sort of 1950's lab or something, though. The Doctor certainly had unusual tastes.
"Nearly there," the Doctor said, hunched over a microscope.
"Really?" Rose asked hopefully.
The Doctor didn't answer and her hope dampened ever so slightly. Rose cleared her throat.
"I'm sure I'm on the right track," the Doctor finally said. "You know how elusive this is? People always say they have the cure for the common cold. I've heard it a thousand times, but when you really look at it, they don't."
"But you'll do it, yeah?"
The Doctor fell silent again.
"Look, forget my mum. She gave me her remedy over the phone, so you don't have to freak out about going there."
"Who's freaking out?"
"You're not going to find the cure, are you?"
"I might!" The Doctor sneezed and resumed looking through the microscope. "Maybe I've been going about it wrong."
Rose gave him an exasperated sigh. "You're gonna keep working, aren't you?"
"I just need a lucky break."
"You need someone to take care of you. Good job I'm here." Rose set a mug down on the table next to the Doctor.
Before she could pull her hand away from the mug, his hand was on top of hers. It surprised her. She thought he was going to say something, but when she looked up at him, he was wordlessly watching her. It might have simply been the cold, but he looked so vulnerable right at that moment. And maybe a bit hopeful?
The effect of the look in his eyes hit Rose immediately. She plunked the second mug down, and quickly wrapped her arms around the Doctor in a hug. It was his turn to be surprised, as it made him slightly jump. But he quickly recovered and pulled her even closer. His head dropped down onto her shoulder, and she could feel his even breathing against her body.
Maybe it wasn't just his cold in that look he'd given her.
Rose instinctively moved her hand to the back of his head, which obviously was the wrong thing to do. The Doctor cleared his throat and pulled away from her, shaking his head slightly.
"Sorry, head's too stuffed up to think," he mumbled with a sniff, eyes focused on the microscope. "Always makes me a bit daft."
"Sorry? Why should you be sorry?"
He looked at her again, almost as if he was trying to read something in her. Or maybe he wanted her to read something in him. "Mickey," he said suddenly.
"Mickey? What about him?"
"Called your Mum, didn't you? You'll probably want to call your boyfriend."
What? Rose stared at him. "Um...I suppose?" Then it struck her. "Nah, he probably won't be much help, will he? Got everything I need right here." She picked up one of the mugs of tea and handed it to him. "You, me, and tea. Not bad, is it?"
He took the tea and stared down into it like it might magically provide the answers to solving the common cold. "Yeah," he said thickly. "Not bad."
An awkward silence descended. The Doctor took a sip of tea and Rose searched for something to say. "So, can the TARDIS really add more stuff? Like if I need more room for...erm, socks?"
The Doctor brightened. "Sure! Anything you need, I can get it for you. Just say the word!"
"Want to help me unpack?"
The Doctor choked on his tea. "I'm sorry?"
"Well, I don't mean right now!" Rose said. "After we're better. I'll probably need you to tell the TARDIS how big to make the wardrobe, yeah?"
The Doctor stared at her. Rose had a feeling he was about to tell her the TARDIS could calculate the mass of her belongings in 0.5 seconds and accommodate herself accordingly.
Then his face broke out into a smile. "Fantastic."
Rose frowned. "Except... no looking at my... y'know, girlie things."
"Never even occurred to me," he said, looking a bit too innocent.
Rose smirked but held her tongue. "So that's settled. How about you come back to the lounge? It's no fun being sick on my own."
The Doctor looked mournfully at the microscope and sighed.
Rose pulled on his arm. "Come on. You can mock the program about crop circles."
He stood up with a grin. "My best one's the one with all the rings!"
"What?"
He didn't answer but kept that Cheshire Cat grin.
Maybe someday she'd be able to tell when he was having her on, but for now she simply gave him a "yeah, right," with her own grin. She linked her arm through his and led him back to the lounge where he'd soon go back to being a really bad pillow.
Authors:
goldy_dollar and mrv3000Pairing: Nine/Rose
Rating: PG
Summary: The Doctor and Rose both catch colds.
Betas: Thanks to
beck_liz! And to doctor_addict and brookeormian for Britpicking!A/N: Set shortly after "World War Three." Approximately 3,500 words of fluff. Really, just fluff that goes on for a while. :D
Blummph.
Rose opened her eyes to the dim light in the room, her head pounding.
Blummph. Again.
Maybe she could call it her room now. After all, anything over a week and there could be some sort of claim, right?
She sneezed.
Lovely. A cold. Some impressive human she turned out to be – hardly any time travelling with the Doctor, and she went and got ill.
Rose pulled the blankets over her head. Alien blankets, she supposed. Of course, the Doctor did seem to really like Earth, so maybe he'd picked them up somewhere. It was more fun to think they were alien though. Maybe from that planet they were just on...
ALIEN!
Rose sat up straight and instantly regretted it, putting a hand to her head.
What if she had some sort of alien cold that wasn't actually a cold but did something weird to her? Like she'd turn orange or something? Or... would make her nose fall off?!
Getting out of bed, she grabbed some clothes out of her bag. She dressed quickly, deciding to skip the shoes, partly because everything was in a big jumble and she didn't feel like she'd be able to sort out a matching pair at the moment. She padded out in socked feet and after only one wrong turn, she was in the giant console room.
There was a sneeze from the direction of the controls. Rose found the Doctor on his back, poking at some wires with his sonic screwdriver. He sneezed again.
"Thank God," Rose said, flopping down by his legs.
"Oh, hello. And why are we thankful this morning?" the Doctor asked, sounding stuffed up himself.
"My nose isn't going to fall off."
The Doctor stopped fiddling and stared at her. "Of all the things I could have possibly thought you were going to say."
Rose decided his bent-up knee was a good place to prop up her head. "You're ill and you aren't worried, and so I don't have some alien disease that will make my nose fall off."
"Or perhaps I've made peace with my imminent nose loss."
Rose closed her eyes. "I guess I should make my peace then, too."
"Bye, Rose's nose."
"Bye, nose." She opened her eyes again. "Why are you working?"
"Why not?"
"You're sick. You're supposed to watch telly and drink juice and eat soup. It's like a universal law or something."
"Oh, universal law, eh?" He sat up and Rose lost her head-prop.
Rose frowned.
"What?"
"Aren't you supposed to be this amazing Time Lord? Don't you have some sort of little instant cure pill for a cold?"
"Supposed to be?" The Doctor stood up and then pulled Rose up as well. "I'll have you know that statues have been carved of me! The people of Narh Seven have an annual three-day festival in my honour! Supposed to be!"
"Yeah, yeah. The cold?"
The Doctor sniffed. "No, no cure for the cold."
"Then telly, juice and soup it is. Come on."
***
She pulled the Doctor along by the sleeve of his jacket. He looked skeptical.
"Do you know where we're going?" he asked.
"Course I do!" she said. "Just... down there, yeah?"
She gestured vaguely in front of her and was relieved when they stumbled into a kitchen only moments later. At least, she hoped it was a kitchen. The first time she'd found it, the Doctor had smiled in a way that indicated it could have been a kitchen or something completely alien and impractical like an escape pod. Since then, she half expected to be ejected from the TARDIS when she pressed the button to use the microwave.
Rose pointed at the table and said, "Sit."
He raised his eyebrows, but sat down. He leaned back in the chair and sent her a speculative look.
Rose blushed under his stare – and then dissolved into a fit of painful coughs.
"Might want to try some water," the Doctor suggested.
"You are so useless," Rose said, snorting and snuffling her way to the stove. She boiled what she hoped would turn into chicken soup and made a valiant effort not to die.
When she returned to the table, the Doctor had stuck two rolled tissues up his nose. He grinned at her proudly, raising his eyebrows as if to say: "Bet you wish you'd thought of this first!"
Rose frowned at him. It seemed like cheating in some way.
"Soup," she declared, plunking a bowl down in front of him.
The Doctor stared into it sceptically. "This is soup?"
"Yeah, it is!" Rose said. She turned around to get herself a portion. "So what if it's mostly water and noodles? That's what you're supposed to eat when you're sick. Mickey used to make it for me all the time."
The Doctor choked.
Rose wrinkled her nose. "Doctor?"
"This soup comes from Mickey?"
Rose shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"
The Doctor looked grumpy. "Nothing."
Rose blinked when he abandoned his soup and crawled under the table, folding his hands behind his head and staring up at it like the table held all the secrets to the universe.
Rose glanced back at her soup and considered. Shrugging, Rose left her bowl on the stove and went to join him.
The floor was cold against the back of her neck. After fidgeting, she decided to mimic the Doctor's pose and folded her hands under her head.
"We're under a table," Rose finally stated. She honestly wasn't sure why she bothered pointing it out. The reason could be anything from: "I was sleepy!" to "I'm defeating an alien threat on the ceiling by hiding."
"Seemed like the thing to do," the Doctor said. He shifted and then shoved one of the tissues further up his nose.
Rose made a face. The better question was probably why she had followed his under-the-table example.
"The soup comes from Mickey," the Doctor said. Again.
Rose rolled her eyes. "Well, it's not like it was poisoned or nothing."
The Doctor harumphed in a way that indicated that the mere mention of Mickey's name would be more than enough to poison the soup.
His next question caught her off-guard.
"Do you miss him?"
Rose fidgeted uncomfortably. "Dunno," she said. "Haven't really thought about it."
He made a non-committal noise and didn't say anything.
"I mean, yeah. Guess I do. Sometimes." Rose pinched the bridge of her nose in hopes of stemming the flow of mucus. It did not help. "Why?
He turned his head to look at her, his eyes unreadable. Rose unconsciously sucked in a breath.
"You have enough wardrobe space? Chest of drawers? The TARDIS can make more."
"Um..." He was making her head spin more than the cold was. "Haven't had a chance to unpack, really." It was only a white lie: there were always more interesting things to do than to organize her socks.
Something flashed across the Doctor's face before turning to look at the table again.
"Telly!" he said, breaking out into a smile.
Rose stared at him. "I'm sorry?"
"Telly," he repeated. He patted her on the back of her hand. "That was the plan, wasn't it? And I'll tell you what, Rose Tyler. The TARDIS picks up broadcasting signals from all over this universe."
Rose smiled, thoughts of Mickey and socks fleeing her mind. "Oh, yeah?"
The Doctor nodded seriously. "Have you ever seen a Brazilian Telenovela?"
"I don't think so," Rose said. "Are they any good?"
"Terrible," the Doctor said. He gave a mock-shudder. "Bound to scare the germs right out of us. Just what the doctor ordered."
Rose rolled her eyes. "No, you did not just say that."
"What do you think?" the Doctor continued.
Rose pretended to think about it. "Take the tissues out of your nose first," she said. "And I want blankets. Two of them!"
The Doctor grinned.
***
Rose wrinkled her nose at the retro-looking remote. It was like something they had when she was five, clearly remembering it because she had decided to give it a bath. It definitely didn't belong on some high-tech alien space ship and didn't seem to go with the giant screen in the wall.
She flipped past channel after channel. The universe really liked quiz shows. And dance competitions. Loads of those. She stopped on a channel where there were two large...things. Sort of big green leafy bushes, but obviously not bushes since they could move around. She thought about Jabe, but these things weren't human-looking at all. Maybe an ancestor or something? There wasn't any talking, just odd, but relaxing, music. Actually, the whole thing was relaxing in a hypnotic sort of way. She propped her head up with her hand and stared.
A very loud throat-clearing by the Doctor practically made her jump. He stood in the doorway, blankets in his arms and very, very wide eyes.
"Oh, hey. Found some dance competition. Or maybe it's a nature program. I'm not really sure." Rose looked back at the screen. "But it's nice."
"Not nature. Or dancing, per se." The Doctor dumped the blankets on the sofa and swiped the remote out of her hand. "How about something else?"
"Awww." Rose pouted and sniffed, the sniffing more out of necessity.
"Uh, Rose? This is..."
"Yeah?"
The Doctor shifted feet, non-cold-related colour on his cheeks. "Well, you see, when two people love each other very much..."
Rose sat straight up. "Oh, my god! It's plant porn!"
"Not really plants..."
"You have plant porn on your telly!"
"It's not like I subscribe!"
Rose smirked and raised an eyebrow at him.
"I don't! The TARDIS gets everything! Really!"
"Have to say, I've never heard the 'my spaceship ordered the porn' excuse before," she teased.
He reached over and threw a blanket at her head. "Changing the channel now."
Rose pulled the blanket from her head and wrapped it around her. "Doctor, where's this from?"
"Can we please stop talking about the so-called plant...you know?"
"No, the blanket, you nutter."
"Ah." He flopped down next to her. "That's from...somewhere in Kent, I think."
"Hmm. And yours?"
He looked at her quizzically. "Picked this one up in London."
Rose frowned. "Earth blankets, then."
"You want a non-Earth blanket? Rose, have I ever mentioned that you're a bit odd?"
"Am not," Rose muttered except that it sounded more like "A'b not."
Sniffing, she let her head droop against the Doctor's arm (shoulder? It was bony in a shoulder-y sort of way) and tried to focus on the television. Very colourful, she decided. She had no idea what was going on. She tried to focus. Something about pyramids?
"OH! What a lie!" The Doctor grabbed a tissue from the near-by table and shoved it on his face. "Complete poseur."
Rose winced as her head jostled uncomfortably. "Will you hold still? I'm trying to keep back all the snot."
"Landing pads," the Doctor snorted. "It doesn't take a genius to tell that they're meant to be prisons, originally hooked up to a space-time tunnel to Mars. At least he got the alien part right. Half credit."
Rose yawned, only half-listening. He wasn't making a very good pillow.
Suddenly, an idea struck her and she sat up. She started digging through her pockets.
"Rose...?" The Doctor looked hurt that she was no longer resting on him, but she ignored him and finally emerged with her mobile. She started dialling. His voice turned more suspicious. "Rose, who are you calling?"
She shushed him as the phone rang on the other end. "Hello?"
"Mum!" Rose said, feeling a surge of relief. Of course her mum would know what to do. "Mum, I need your help."
The Doctor's reaction was immediate. He sprung up from the sofa and started pacing, shooting her a dark look. "What'd you go and do that for?" he mouthed.
She pressed her fingers to her lips. Jackie had all ready begun wailing on the other side of the phone.
"What's wrong, sweetheart? You're not in trouble, are you? Is it the Doctor? Has he done anything? If he has, I'll break both his kneecaps, mark my words--"
"No, no," Rose said. "Nothing like that."
The Doctor stopped pacing and cocked his head to listen. He looked like he wasn't sure whether to stay still or run away.
Rose almost laughed and her nose made a noise that sounded like a tea kettle going off. "I'b poorly. And so's the Doctor. We're both ill. It's rubbish."
The Doctor frowned. "We were learning Egyptian history!" he protested. "What's so rubbish about that?"
Jackie made some crooning noises in the back of her throat and then said, "Good cup of tea! That's what you need. Tea and a nice dollop of honey. It's what your Gran always made for me."
The Doctor started pacing again, folding and unfolding his arms like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.
"You need to rest," Jackie continued. "Tea and rest! A good sleep and you'll be good as new, sweetheart. Why don't you come home for a few days until your better? You can sleep in your own bed. How's that sound?"
Rose folded her hand over the mouthpiece and looked at the Doctor. "Mum says we could go stay with her for a few days."
His eyes widened and he backed into the television, shaking his head.
"Just 'till we're better," Rose added.
The Doctor twitched. Then, a light came into his eyes. "You know what, Rose?"
She blinked at him. "What?"
Jackie was still talking on the other end of the phone. "...does the Doctor sleep? Or is it like in those vampire movies? You know, the ones where they stay in coffins and only come out at night? Is he like that? Oooh... I could start feeding you garlic..."
"I," the Doctor stood up straighter and Rose was nearly certain he puffed out his chest, "am not just brilliant, I am very brilliant. And if there's one thing I should be able to do, it's cure the common cold."
Rose nodded, beginning to feel excited. Still, she figured he'd need a push in the right direction. "Dunno," she said, shrugging a shoulder. "Seems like just about everyone's tried. And you said it yourself, Doctor. No cure. Guess we're gonna have to go to my mum's."
"Oh, no we're not, Rose. And you know why? Nothing can be impossible. Not the TARDIS, not time travel, and certainly not a cure for the common cold."
He finished his speech by sneezing a handful of mucus into a tissue.
Rose began to hope this cure would not take him long.
"...I've got twelve episodes of Eastenders on tape, Rose," Jackie was saying. "Won't that be nice? It's been a while since we've done a marathon, hasn't it? And the Doctor strikes me as someone who watches too much telly. What d'you think?"
Filled with determination, the Doctor grabbed a handful of tissues, and then made his way down the corridor with the sonic screwdriver buzzing out in front of him, muttering something about "antiretroviral therapy" and "stopping the mutations mid-sequence."
Rose felt a thrill of satisfaction. "That's great, Mum," she said, cutting Jackie off mid-sentence. "Gonna go get some tea now. Love you!"
She clicked her phone off and then settled back down under the blankets. She was betting that after being threatened with her mum, Doctor would have a cure in an hour. Two, tops.
***
Rose woke up, slumped over on the sofa. She groggily opened her eyes to look at the TV, which was now on some program where a dog was interviewing a cat. Or she might have finally gone delirious.
She had no idea how long she'd been asleep. Maybe the Doctor was finished with the cure. No, that couldn't be right, otherwise he'd be giving it to her right now. Rose rubbed her tongue across her dry mouth. Oh, right. She'd meant to get tea before she fell asleep. Tea and then the Doctor. Sounded like a plan.
Shortly she had two mugs in hand and shuffled off down a hallway in the direction of some clunking noises. Clunking noise seemed promising. And then there was a Doctor-sounding sneeze. Definitely in the right place.
"'lo," she said, walking into a room that looked like a lab. A sort of 1950's lab or something, though. The Doctor certainly had unusual tastes.
"Nearly there," the Doctor said, hunched over a microscope.
"Really?" Rose asked hopefully.
The Doctor didn't answer and her hope dampened ever so slightly. Rose cleared her throat.
"I'm sure I'm on the right track," the Doctor finally said. "You know how elusive this is? People always say they have the cure for the common cold. I've heard it a thousand times, but when you really look at it, they don't."
"But you'll do it, yeah?"
The Doctor fell silent again.
"Look, forget my mum. She gave me her remedy over the phone, so you don't have to freak out about going there."
"Who's freaking out?"
"You're not going to find the cure, are you?"
"I might!" The Doctor sneezed and resumed looking through the microscope. "Maybe I've been going about it wrong."
Rose gave him an exasperated sigh. "You're gonna keep working, aren't you?"
"I just need a lucky break."
"You need someone to take care of you. Good job I'm here." Rose set a mug down on the table next to the Doctor.
Before she could pull her hand away from the mug, his hand was on top of hers. It surprised her. She thought he was going to say something, but when she looked up at him, he was wordlessly watching her. It might have simply been the cold, but he looked so vulnerable right at that moment. And maybe a bit hopeful?
The effect of the look in his eyes hit Rose immediately. She plunked the second mug down, and quickly wrapped her arms around the Doctor in a hug. It was his turn to be surprised, as it made him slightly jump. But he quickly recovered and pulled her even closer. His head dropped down onto her shoulder, and she could feel his even breathing against her body.
Maybe it wasn't just his cold in that look he'd given her.
Rose instinctively moved her hand to the back of his head, which obviously was the wrong thing to do. The Doctor cleared his throat and pulled away from her, shaking his head slightly.
"Sorry, head's too stuffed up to think," he mumbled with a sniff, eyes focused on the microscope. "Always makes me a bit daft."
"Sorry? Why should you be sorry?"
He looked at her again, almost as if he was trying to read something in her. Or maybe he wanted her to read something in him. "Mickey," he said suddenly.
"Mickey? What about him?"
"Called your Mum, didn't you? You'll probably want to call your boyfriend."
What? Rose stared at him. "Um...I suppose?" Then it struck her. "Nah, he probably won't be much help, will he? Got everything I need right here." She picked up one of the mugs of tea and handed it to him. "You, me, and tea. Not bad, is it?"
He took the tea and stared down into it like it might magically provide the answers to solving the common cold. "Yeah," he said thickly. "Not bad."
An awkward silence descended. The Doctor took a sip of tea and Rose searched for something to say. "So, can the TARDIS really add more stuff? Like if I need more room for...erm, socks?"
The Doctor brightened. "Sure! Anything you need, I can get it for you. Just say the word!"
"Want to help me unpack?"
The Doctor choked on his tea. "I'm sorry?"
"Well, I don't mean right now!" Rose said. "After we're better. I'll probably need you to tell the TARDIS how big to make the wardrobe, yeah?"
The Doctor stared at her. Rose had a feeling he was about to tell her the TARDIS could calculate the mass of her belongings in 0.5 seconds and accommodate herself accordingly.
Then his face broke out into a smile. "Fantastic."
Rose frowned. "Except... no looking at my... y'know, girlie things."
"Never even occurred to me," he said, looking a bit too innocent.
Rose smirked but held her tongue. "So that's settled. How about you come back to the lounge? It's no fun being sick on my own."
The Doctor looked mournfully at the microscope and sighed.
Rose pulled on his arm. "Come on. You can mock the program about crop circles."
He stood up with a grin. "My best one's the one with all the rings!"
"What?"
He didn't answer but kept that Cheshire Cat grin.
Maybe someday she'd be able to tell when he was having her on, but for now she simply gave him a "yeah, right," with her own grin. She linked her arm through his and led him back to the lounge where he'd soon go back to being a really bad pillow.
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