This whole thing started when I found a nice, long lists of suggested things to do when you're bored, and a lot of them reminded me of the kind of shenanigans the Doctor and Rose could've gotten up to between episodes. I decided that, with a bit of tweaking, they could make for some good, fun, and perhaps (sometimes) mildly romantic stories.

This one wasn't actually on the list, mind, but the idea kept pressing at the back of my brain, and I figured... well, my first foray into the Doctor Who fandom should probably be simple. I can build up.

So, here I am, diving headfirst into a new fandom. And, well... geronimo.

Disclaimer: I'm American, so the mere thought of me ever owning Doctor Who is kind of... well... ridiculous.


The Waiting Game

The Doctor sat stiffly in his chair, drumming the fingers of one hand distractedly against the arm rest as he leaned his chin in the other. He half-stared, half-glowered at his companion as she slouched against the edge of a couch a few feet away, pretending to read a book (he just knew she was pretending; a page hadn't been turned for at least ten minutes now) and humming a song he didn't recognize under her breath.

The Doctor cleared his throat, and Rose Tyler glanced up with a smirk.

"What's wrong, Doctor? Slitheen got your tongue?"

Her expression was all innocence, complete with wide, doe-eyed blinking, but the Doctor knew better. He saw how her tongue just barely poked out from between her teeth, how her eyes glittered with mischief.

Rose, he decided, was going to be the death of him someday. Completely and indefinitely. He had no idea how she even convinced him to do these things. He was pretty sure he had never agreed to such insane ideas with any of his previous companions.

But the Doctor wasn't one to back out of bets, and ten quid was on the line. Twenty-four hours of saying and doing nothing couldn't be too hard, could it?

The Doctor felt his leg fidget involuntarily. Well.

"Y'know," Rose began conversationally, looking up to the ceiling, "I never really understood Shakespeare in school. I mean, all my teachers talked about him like he was some kinda genius, but he couldn't even write properly! All he did was make up words!"

The Doctor swallowed thickly and let out a slow breath. No way was she going to trick him into reacting. He was a nine hundred-year-old Time Lord. There was no way he was going to lose a game of time to twenty-year-old human.

"By the way, forgot t' tell you. Threw out the rest of the marmalade an' bananas yesterday. Had to make room for some pears I found at that market in 2876. They were so fresh and juicy lookin' that I couldn't help but buy 'em when I saw 'em."

The Doctor gaped at her, a sort of squeaking sound escaping unbidden from his mouth. Rose was kidding, right? She had to be kidding. He gave her a look that begged her to tell him that she was just kidding, but she ignored it with the mastery of the Gabauldrons -- two metre tall aliens from the Ulio 7 Quadrant that walked tall and ignored the presence of any creature larger than them as if they just didn't exist.

"Oh!" Rose clapped her hands and widened her eyes, a grin spreading over her face. "Also, Mum called last week when we were runnin' from those weird-looking jellyfish things an' said she's decided to go travelin' with us! So we should probably go an' pick her up sometime soon."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at her dubiously, and Rose tilted her head in thought as she laughed. "Yeah, you're right. I don't even believe that one."

The Doctor let out a frustrated huff, slowly beginning to count backwards from 86,400 -- no, wait... His brow furrowed in thought as he tried to figure out how much time had already passed. 84,546... 84,545...

"Twenty-three an' a half more to go, Doctor," Rose taunted with that cheeky grin of hers. "You're never gonna make it. This ten quid's mine."

And, despite his bubbling frustration and that niggling feeling of restlessness easing into the back of his mind, the Doctor found himself grinning right back. He settled himself comfortably back in the arm chair, reminded himself to make sure there were no actual pears in the kitchen once this was over, and he waited.

84,478...