fic tennis: second match!

allrightfine:

Now that it’s been a few days since gallifreyburning and I successfully completed one round of fic tennis, it’s time for another one! (Clearly we find this entertaining, or we wouldn’t be doing it, but if you do not and would like to spare yourself, savior “fic tennis.”)

It’s my turn to serve to her, so:

gallifreyburning:

Rose asked the Doctor to meet her for some shopping over lunch. They’d done it before, mostly to buy him clothes, a process he tolerated with great patience. Partially because he was just vain enough to enjoy preening in front of the changing room mirrors, partially because he had created a game for himself where he tried to lure Rose into the changing room, claiming he needed an opinion on whether a certain pair of trousers were too tight. After a bit of hot breath and kissing and friction, the trousers were inevitably too tight.

So shopping over lunch wasn’t new, and the Doctor showed up with his usual bright enthusiasm – visions of changing rooms and Rose and full-length mirrors dancing in his head. He wasn’t expecting to be dragged to a fabric store.

“Drapes, Doctor. For the living room. If you’re going to institute Naked Wednesday Night, we’re going to have to take some precautions.”

Suddenly, the Doctor’s head went right back to Krop Tor. To “You’ll have to get a house, with carpet and drapes. You’ll have to get a morrrrt-gage.”

He felt strangely short of breath, panic clawing at his stomach. “I … just realized, I … was supposed to meet Pete today. To talk about that paperwork … for the Torchwood … thing.” 

allrightfine:

Rose squinted at him, cocking her head in a way that made the Doctor feel like – oh, she knows.

After a long moment of fidgeting under her scrutiny, he watched as she seemed to come to a decision.

“That’s all right,” she said. “Only I’ve just realized – we promised Tony that superhero cape, probably don’t have time to look at cape fabric anddrapes fabric.”

The Doctor felt his heart slow to a calmer rhythm, the hot flush across the back of his neck dissipating. He nodded at her to continue.

“Tony’s obviously more important, so if you have to leave, I can handle it on my own. Drapes can wait a while.”

Now that this trip was no longer about window coverings, he decided it was safe to blow off his fake meeting with Pete, made up as it was.

“No, no, I took the measurements after all, don’t need you buying a cape he’ll be swimming in. That’s a right danger, that is. Or too short! Nothing like try to fight off an evil villain while he’s laughing at your wardrobe choices. Trust me, I’d know.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I thought the trainers and suit thing worked for you,” and she turned on her heel toward more child-friendly fabrics.

“I wasn’t talking about this me! Rose! Rose –”

gallifreyburning:

“S’fine, Doctor,” Rose interrupted brusquely. She yanked a bolt of fabric off the shelf, grey flannel with a yellow bat-shaped symbol woven into it. “Was it Batman? Was that what Tony wanted?”

“Hulk,” the Doctor replied, tugging at the neck of his shirt out of nervous habit. He wasn’t wearing the suit – today it was jeans and a long-sleeved sweater. He had a yearning for those pinstripes at the moment, though. They were his armor, and he definitely felt in need of some protection.

Rose was staring at him, left eyebrow arched in disbelief. “The Hulk doesn’t wear a cape.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “The whims of a child are difficult to understand, Rose. Logic just doesn’t apply.”

For some reason, she smirked and giggled. “Oh, Doctor. Tell me about it.”

“I have the distinct feeling I should be offended,” he said, shoving his hands into his jean pockets, but she’d already turned her back and continued down the aisle toward a bolt of green fabric, so he couldn’t see her expression.

The Doctor was disappointed to learn that fabric stores didn’t have changing rooms. In the parking lot, Rose put the yards of green cotton/polyester blend in his hands and gave him a peck on the cheek. She hopped in her car without a look back and was gone.

allrightfine:

He stood where she’d left him until his hands grew sweaty around the fabric. He’d taken the tube to the store, figuring he’d catch a lift with Rose wherever she was going next.

At the time he’d made his transportation decisions, that was hopefully going to be back to the flat for a lunch shag. Now he was stuck without a ride, without a shag, and was Rose — she was mad at him, wasn’t she? Or was it disappointed?

Maybe walking home would help him figure it out.

It did not.

Back in the flat, the sunlight streaming through the windows seemed unnaturally bright and warm, and the necessity of drapes was immediately apparent.

Why had he reacted like that? Plenty of domestics in his life now. Meeting your girlfr — your Rose on a lunch break, that was domestic. Waking up in the same bed as her, curling up on the couch together, dinner at the kitchen table, domestic, domestic, domestic.

He’d jumped head first into all of that, for the most part. Maybe drapes could be the same. After unraveling the fabric for Tony’s cape, he found a roll of packaging tape and set to covering the windows, just to see. It wouldn’t be permanent, but he could try it out — drapes, in their flat.

And if Rose wanted to take advantage of the temporarily increased privacy, well, he was never one to deny her.  

gallifreyburning:

It was Wednesday, after all. And she had agreed last week that Nudity Wednesday Night was a brilliant idea.  

The Doctor changed into his pinstripes – this kind of experiment certainly required the proper armor. And transdimensional pockets didn’t hurt, either. He worked all afternoon, and by the time Rose came home after work, he was quite proud of the progress he’d made.

Tony’s superhero cape fabric was taped over the windows like blackout curtains gone into a Hulk-y green rage. The clean laundry was folded into perfect hexagons and stacked on the couch. The carpet was spotless – a bit threadbare, too, since he’d jiggered with the suction power of the vacuum and accidentally sucked away most of the pile. But it was undeniably dirt-free.

Dishes were carefully laid out on the table, the scent of cooking food filled the flat, and every candle Rose had ever owned had been pulled out and scattered across all the level surfaces. An old boombox sat on the counter, tape cued to “In Your Eyes” and ready to go – that bit had required a trip to the second-hand shop down the street, but according to the Doctor’s research, it would be worth it.

Rose stood outside the open front door, key still held up in her hand from unlocking the bolt, surveying his handiwork with eyes wide and mouth agape. 

#fic tennis #I like to think the Doctor considers watching human movies as ''cultural research'' #Moreso than reading any kind of legit academic papers on cultural practices etc. #Sociology is not the Doctor's strong suit #RETURNED! #Ball's in your court Jamie :D

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    The Doctor saw with perfect clarity that there was going to come a time when she was going to have to explain to him...
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    tennis!!Their first go
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