Happy birthday to my lovely friend Larxenethefirefly!
The Doctor bounced nervously on the balls of his feet. He hated having to take the Tube. Usually he enjoyed the crowds. There was always someone new to meet. But today he was in hurry and the train was slow. There was only so much time to finish this errand and beat Rose back to her flat, their flat.
He was in trouble, really big trouble. One week in Pete's World and the Doctor had flummoxed it all up. Rose had told him not to burn the flat down while she went to Torchwood to finalize a few things in his new identity. She had asked him to come with her, but he'd been stubborn, wanting to finish his new sonic screwdriver to impress her and he'd caused a fire.
In his defense, it was a small fire. A simple flare up on the bed in his room caused by dropping the soldering iron exactly onto the spot where he had dropped a minuscule amount of flammable grease from the planet Siladayrd. A tube of the highly useful stuff had been in the pocket of his blue suit when they had come back to this Universe and having it had made this project all that much easier. It had also caused bright purple flames to erupt a meter high and char the duvet and sheets.
The train pulled into his station, and he climbed the stairs up into the streets of London. At least he still had his magnificent hair. No real harm done. He hoped that Rose wouldn't even have to know. If he could get rid of the evidence, air out the flat (burnt Siladayrd grease left a distinctive odor) and get new sheets on the bed then his tiny little flub could be completely forgotten.
Except that Rose didn't have any extra sheets for the bed in the spare room. A duvet, yes, extra sheets for her much larger bed, of course, but none for the small bed in his room. He had noticed that her bed was suspiciously big enough for two, and yet she slept in it all alone and made him sleep in another room.
He harrumphed as he entered a place that made his skin prickle, Henrik's. There were very few things that he hated more than shopping. An army of Daleks was usually more inviting than a gaggle of humans looking for a bargain.
After a quick glance at the store map, he made his way flawlessly to the home goods section. He managed to dodge a few of the sales girls, but a brunette kept cutting of him off. The young woman prattled on about thread counts and silks versus satin. Much better for nocturnal activities than cotton she told him as she laid a hand on his bicep and gave it a slight squeeze. He would have had to be blind, deaf and dumb to miss her innuendo when she asked what size mattress he had. She had, however, missed all of his subtle deflection techniques. Time to make it obvious that she was way off the mark.
He effectively shut her down when he told her the sheets were for the spare room of the flat he shared with his girlfriend. The sales girl couldn't get rid of him quick enough after that. Only a few minutes later he found himself back outside heading home.
Girlfriend. He mulled the world around in his big brain as the train took him back to his destination surprisingly speedily. Boyfriend-girlfriend wasn't exactly the way that he would describe their relationship. It was simultaneously deeper and somehow less than that. Especially since he was currently sleeping in the other room by himself. He just couldn't stop himself from harping on that point.
There were numerous ways that he could communicate to Rose that he wanted their relationship to push past the hand holding, hugs and occasional chaste kisses that they shared now.
Opening the door to the flat, he noticed that the smell of burnt synthetic fabric had all but dispersed from the air. Well, that was one good thing at least. He shucked off his blue suit jacket at tossed it over a chair. This body preferred not to wear ties and to not wear a jacket at home.
Of course to him, home was wherever Rose was.
With the plastic wrapped packet under his arm, he headed to his room to finish the cleanup efforts. The scorched linens had been binned earlier and now there was just a small soot stain on the mattress. Nothing he couldn't easily erase using the cleaning products that Rose kept in the cupboard.
Or so he thought.
~oOo~
An acrid smell permeated the air, and Rose took the remaining steps to the third floor walkup that she now shared with the Doctor two at a time. It had been a mistake to leave him alone, but she had known he was working on something and she didn't want to crowd him.
The door to the flat was open when she arrived. In fact, every window was thrown open wide. Smoke was curling ominously from the doorway to the second bedroom. Immediately she assumed that he'd started a fire. She was wrong. This was so much worse.
What had once been a twin sized bed was now half melted. A large blob of liquefied mattress hit the floor with a loud plop.
"What the bloody hell happened here?" Rose cried.
The Doctor jumped. "Rose," he squeaked and tried unsuccessfully to block the oozing mess from her view. "You're back early. Not that I wanted you to be gone longer. I always miss you when you're not with me. Why don't we go and have lunch? I'm famished."
"Doctor," Rose said somehow managing to keep her voice level. "What happened to the bed?"
"It wasn't Siladayrd grease. I thought it was, but it wasn't. I mean it had all the right characteristics, smell, feel, purple flames when it caught fire. But it was from Yxral and when I tried to clean the tiny little soot—but not really soot—from the bed this happened." He waved a hand at the now unrecognizable sludge. "I should probably neutralize that before it eats through the floor."
Rose had to stifle a laugh. "You think?" He ran out of the room saying something about potassium bicarbonate and Rose could no longer stop herself from laughing. This was 100% pure Doctor right here. Pulling out her mobile, she shot a text to her dad letting him know he should probably send over a cleanup crew.
"Let me get this straight," she chuckled as he reappeared with the fire extinguisher. "You set your bed on fire and in an attempt to clean it up, you turned said bed into goo?" He nodded, and she grinned. "If you wanted a change in the sleeping arrangements, Doctor, all you had to do was ask nicely."
"It was an accident, honestly. I even went out and bought new sheets so you wouldn't find out." The Doctor set down the extinguisher and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Hang on, did you just say that all I had to do was ask and I would have been out of exile?"
She grinned at him. "Nicely, you have to ask nicely, and it was hardly a banishment. I was just trying to give you space, you know, so you could adjust to being stuck here."
He was across the room in four steps, and he gathered her into a hug. "Rose Tyler, I don't need space, not from you. I want to be here, by your side. Being stuck with you, that's brilliant."
Looking up at him, her eyes were shining with hope and love. "Yeah?"
"Oh, yes," he whispered, bringing his lips down to hers, and she relaxed against him with a sigh. The kiss started out gentle but soon deepened into something more. Her hands slid into hair and his splayed across her back.
A few minutes later a knock at the door made Rose pull back. "That'll be the Torchwood cleanup crew." She started walking towards the lounge. The Doctor quickly caught up and took her hand. "Why don't we let them do their job, and we can grab chips," Rose suggested.
"And we can discuss new sleeping arrangements?" he asked hopefully.
Rose winked at him before opening the door. "Amongst other things."
When she had shown the small crew to the Doctor's former room, his grip on her hand tightened. "Allons-y, Rose Tyler," he cried as they began to race out of the flat. It was time to embrace their new reality. Together.