A November Afternoon
They're sitting at a table outside a cafe watching the leaves fall.
Rose has a cup of hot cocoa and the Doctor has his tea and a chocolate pastry. "See, Rose? I told you I can eat things that aren't banana flavoured." "I'm shocked! So, wait, does this mean that you can also change your clothes without suffering any painful side effects?" The glare he sends her in response does nothing except reward him with that smile of hers where the tip of her tongue peeks out and a giggle that makes him feel warm and fluttery in places he has no business feeling warm or fluttery.
They were about to leave London. Again. Were actually headed to the TARDIS when Rose spotted the cafe and made a comment about how it's a gorgeous November day and wouldn't some hot cocoa be perfect right about now.
The Doctor watches her as she carefully sips her cocoa and thinks about how much things have changed since he met her. He has never been like this with a companion before. There were no superphones or home visits. No Sunday dinners with the mother. It was always his rules, his way, and if someone didn't like it, well, they were welcome to leave. Sometimes he wonders what changed, what happened, what exactly he thinks he's doing. When did this become his life?
Sunday dinner with Jackie is why they were back in London in the first place. "Doctor, mum made shepherd's pie and invited us. Can we go? You don't mind, do you? It's just, I think she's a bit lonely."
Of course, he said yes. He always finds himself saying yes to her even when he knows he shouldn't and didn't that disaster with Rose's dad teach him anything.
Apparently not because here he sits. It's all very domestic and very distressing. The worst part is that he maybe, kind of, sort of...likes it. There is a comfort in the routine and it is a comfort that he knows he doesn't deserve. He is not worthy of it. Not the domesticity, not the welcome, not the warmth.
He is a murderer. He is the killer of his own kind. He has done things that would make any sensible being run from him. Except Rose.
Rose Tyler with her bright smile and her endless compassion and her sense of adventure and wanderlust. The girl, no, woman who instinctively knew there was more out there but she was too terrified, too beaten down to even allow herself to dream about it.
She is a woman who has welcomed him into her life as he welcomed her into his and somehow they've managed to strike a balance and now he doesn't know what will become of him when one day she will decide that she has finally had enough and leaves him for good.
He jumps a bit when her hand slides into his, "Hey, Doctor. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"You sure? I called your name like five times. Where were you?"
Giving her hand a little squeeze, he says, "Just thinking that you were right. It is a gorgeous November day."
She smiles as the leaves continue to fall.