For someone who was over 900 years old, she'd have thought he'd have honed his listening comprehension skills a bit more by now.
"And what's this?" he repeated, for what seemed to her like the fiftieth time but was really only the third.
Rose was extending her arm towards the Doctor, offering him a box. The box had some paper on it. It was, in fact, wrapped entirely in paper. Decorative paper, no less. With ribbons and bows on top.
She sighed and began her explanation once again, much more slowly this time. "This," she said in a voice she normally reserved for her friend Shareen's three-year-old nephew, "is a birthday present."
His blank expression made her wonder how he could've ever had the nerve to call Mickey an 'idiot.'
"But it's not my – I mean, I don't have a –" he stammered.
"Everyone's got a birthday," she retorted sternly. "Just because you were born on some Time Lord planet with some Time Lord calendar that's got nothing to do with Earth years and months and weeks, there was still a day that the Doctor came into existence, and I think it's damn well time that we celebrated that event. D'you really know for sure that it's not your birthday?"
Still looking sceptical, he accepted the box from her hands, and gingerly gave it a shake. Then he lifted it up to his face and sniffed it.
"It's not a stink bomb," she offered. "It's not gonna explode or anything."
And then suddenly he was ripping away at the wrapping, all excitement and impish smiles. She waited patiently while he opened the box and examined its contents, anticipating his appreciation.
"Oh," came his response, as he pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. Rose was reminded of how her mother used to look when admiring the artwork she brought home from the second grade.
This was not quite the degree of enthusiasm she'd been expecting.
"D'you recognize it?" she asked.
"Yeah, yeah," he assured her as he lifted up a tattered-looking black leather jacket from the box. "1978. The Ramones. New York." He rubbed the back of his neck and Rose had the distinct impression that his look of appreciation was a bit forced.
"That," she explained, "was Dee Dee Ramone's very own jacket. Hand painted and autographed."
"Right, right. Lovely," he said, nodding his head vigorously.
"And the CD," she prodded.
He looked back in the box and retrieved a CD, which she grabbed from his grasp and opened, revealing several photos of the live Ramones concert in question.
"Look," she said, pointing to a particularly ebullient concertgoer in the fifth row, who stood out largely due to the suit and tie he was wearing amongst a sea of black, denim, and safety pins.
The Doctor reached into his pocket, retrieved his glasses and put them on. He squinted at the miniscule picture. "That's me," he observed.
"And there's that bloke next to you who almost blinded you with that aviator-fuel drink of his 'cause he didn't think you were a real fan, in your pinstripes and all."
The Doctor grinned appreciatively. "I had to sing every lyric to Somebody Put Something In My Drink just to convince him."
"Meant to tell you – singing? Doesn't really work for you," Rose taunted him. "And there's me," she continued, pointing to a figure next to him in the picture.
"Ah, yeah," he replied. "Meant to tell you, orange doesn't really work for you."
"Prat," she said, elbowing him in the ribs.
"You started it," he replied childishly.
"D'you like it?" she asked tentatively.
"Love it," he said warmly as he leaned over to give her a hug.
Rose leaned into the embrace, taking in his scent of strawberry jam, that fluid he used on the TARIDS circuits, and the third, inevitably unidentifiable scent as she went on, "I've got cake, too. Baked it at my mum's."
He wasn't listening. "What's that?" he asked suddenly, releasing her from his embrace and stooping over to pick up the torn gift wrap that he had tossed behind her on the floor.
Rose watched as he fingered through the jumble of ribbons and extracted something. He held it up to show her, grinning wildly.
It was a yo-yo.
"Ahh, brilliant," he said excitedly as he slid the loop onto his finger and released the yo-yo. "Now this," he said as he bobbed it up and down, "You were holding out on me, Rose Tyler, I almost missed this."
It's not easy to bounce a yo-yo when you're simultaneously bouncing yourself up and down in Converse trainers. Soon the Doctor was disentangling himself from the string, which had wrapped itself around his legs.
"Three hundred quid for that jacket and he plays with the toy that came with the meal," Rose muttered to herself. The yo-yo had, in fact, been a freebie stuck onto the box by the sales clerk who had done the gift wrapping.
"Fancy a go, Rose?" he offered, bounding over to her. "D'you know any tricks? Walk the dog? Pinwheel? Around the World?" He paused. "No need to stop with Earth tricks, either; you'd be amazed at the prevalence of yo-yos in the universe. Now forgetting about the Trellians, who've banned them entirely; nasty business involving a rhinoceros and some beets, the southern continent on Qujaga have an entire religion based on them. They actually grow wild on the Kalish home world. They're edible even; lovely with chutney, and then of course there's..." he paused again. "Sorry, did you say something about cake?" he asked suddenly.
This was not going at all how Rose had planned. She sighed in frustration and answered, "Yeah, just a little something I whipped up at my mum's while you were off chasing that ice lizard thingamabob the other day."
He leaned over sideways and asked her almost seductively, "is it…chocolate?"
Rose smiled and ran her tongue over her front teeth teasingly. "Death By Chocolate, in fact," she informed him playfully.
"Now that is something worth celebrating," the Doctor said as he dashed over to the TARDIS console and started to punch buttons and knobs. "Just one more thing we need," he added as the engines started to whir.
"And what's that?" she asked him.
"Balloons," he replied as he slumped back into the console chair and looked up at her with that smile of his, the smile that could look at Daleks and werewolves and anything else the universe threw at them and still make her feel like it was a warm spring day and anything was possible.
"Oh, I've got some," Rose retorted. "Picked them up when I was off getting the jacket."
"Real balloons," he clarified. "Not those cheap rubber things you have on Earth."
"So where are we going, then?" she inquired.
"Oh, no spoiling the surprise, Rose," the Doctor replied.
There was a sound of scurrying, leaves rustling and a few sticks breaking as they opened the door to the TARDIS and emerged.
"And what sort of threatening life forms live here, then?" Rose inquired, looking at the Doctor behind her. "Blood suckers? Power-hungry mosquitoes? Aliens that look like giant weathervanes and feed off of human kneecaps?"
"Nothing here," he informed her. "This planet's perfectly safe. Just your basic wildlife. There's some tree dwellers live here, that's all; they're sort of a cross between a monkey and an Ewok."
Rose raised an eyebrow at him.
"Really, Rose, the biggest danger they present would be falling poo, and even that won't happen till dusk, when they return to their lairs up there," the Doctor said, pointing upwards.
Rose looked away from him and scanned their surroundings. They appeared to be in a forest, not too dense, and not entirely unlike a forest on Earth, except that the trees looked to be about twice as tall. The colours, too, she realized, were all just slightly off; the sky was a little more lavender shaded, the leaves on the trees were slightly blue-green, the tree trunks were a shade darker brown than she was accustomed to. Rose had the impression of having fallen into a picture book of fairy tales, and kept expecting Tinkerbelle to come flying by, trailing fairy dust behind her.
She looked down the slight incline on which they stood and saw a lake, about twenty feet from where the TARDIS was parked. It was surrounded by waist-deep brush, slightly pink in colour.
She noticed a tiny creature, not entirely unlike a turtle, as it scuttled into the water.
She turned to the Doctor, who was picking at the bark on a nearby tree in curiosity. "So balloons, then?" she asked.
"Right, balloons" he said, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, which was starting to get low over the lake. He quickly scanned the area. "None," he announced. "Looks like we're going to have to go foraging for them." He turned and headed back to the TARDIS.
"Foraging? Where are you going?" Rose demanded of him, increasingly frustrated with this "surprise."
"Hang on, be right back," he replied and disappeared into the TARDIS.
Rose paced about, impatient, as she waited for him to return, and pondered this celebration that she was supposed to be giving him. Somehow she'd managed to lose control of the situation. As usual.
Finally the Doctor emerged from the TARDIS carrying something large over his head.
Rose realized it was a boat. He hauled it down to the water, flipped it over and onto the ground, and pushed it into the water.
"All aboard," he said, gesturing for Rose to climb in.
"And where are we going?" she asked.
"Just out on the lake," he explained. "Shouldn't have to go far."
She obliged and climbed into the boat. He followed, took hold of the oars and they glided noiselessly across the water.
They were silent for a time, taking in their surroundings and listening to the gentle splashing of the oars and the water against the boat. This went on for a good ten minutes until Rose realized she was humming idly to herself and started to giggle. The Doctor gave her a questioning look.
"Oh, it's nothing, just a song we used to sing as kids," she explained, and to demonstrate, she started to sing. "A boy and a girl in a little canoe with the moon shining all around." She dissolved into peals of laughter as if this was the funniest thing she had ever heard.
The Doctor was looking at her as if she had just announced her impending marriage to a member of the Slitheen.
Rose did her best to explain. "It almost sounds just like us, except…a boy – but you're not a boy, are you, you're an alien, and the moon shining, but it's some other planet, I don't even know if it's got a moon…" again, the hilarity of it all consumed her and she was rendered speechless in her fits of laughter.
The Doctor chuckled, but she suspected he was really just humouring her. "So how's the rest of the song go?" he asked.
Rose continued singing, "so, they talked and they talked, 'til the moon grew dim, Then she said, 'You gotta kiss me or get out and swim!'" She could feel herself flushing. Just a little.
"And who's she to be making the demands?" he asked in a rather affronted tone. "She's got the problem, sounds like she should be the one to get out and swim." The Doctor paused, running a hand through his hair. "'Course, really, though, he might as well just go ahead and kiss her."
"Yeah?" Rose asked, a little too quickly.
"Better slightly damp on the lips than completely drenched from head to foot," he explained logically.
"Ah, so this is a carefully thought out, risk vs. benefit analysis, is it?" Rose replied. "Hang on, 'slightly damp?'" she demanded. "That's what you think of kissing? Slightly damp?"
"Well, unless it's Catherine the Great, in which case it's downright sopping," he replied. "Who knows, though, maybe I'm just not doing it right," he replied. "C'mere, let's give it a go. Tell me what you think."
"What?" Rose asked in disbelief.
The Doctor pointed to his puckered-up lips. "Let's have at it, then."
"You serious?" she asked, still not sure she'd heard him properly.
"Better than swimming," he shrugged, as if this completely explained his seemingly nonchalant – and very sudden – desire to snog her.
Rose noticed that his lips were looking tantalizingly moistened and strong, and wondered what sort of kisser he was: was he a wide-mouthed-tongue-down-the-throat sort, or was he a more gentle lips-slightly-parted-swirling-playful-tongue sort? She quickly decided that if she really wanted to find out, any further argument would be a very, very bad idea, closed her eyes and leaned over towards him. She could feel his breath next to hers as their lips met, sending shivers down her spine. And then his lips parted and their tongues connected and Rose was breathless as the Doctor's hands cupped her face, softly stroking her cheek and then down her neck. She thought she heard the slightest hint of a moan from him…
And then suddenly she felt a jerk on her shoulders and she was being twisted, turned, and flung over the side and into the searing cold water.
She surfaced, water dripping down her face, gasping and screaming with cold and indignation as the Doctor laughed wildly from his very dry seat in the boat, as he bobbed the yo-yo up and down casually.
Rose's mind ran amok with a million thoughts; fury at him for this humiliation, wondering how far her top had ridden up in the water, trying to see what on Earth (or whatever planet this was, anyway) that thing was that was nipping at her ankle, and wondering what that kiss was all about anyway, but all she managed to utter was, "C-c-c-cold."
"Humans," he observed. "So easy. Just toss a little sex into the mix and suddenly you're the stupidest, most irrational creatures this part of the galaxy." He manoeuvred the boat over to allow her to climb in, and leaned to the other side to keep it from tipping over as she pulled herself up.
"I'm not speaking to you," she pouted, shivering as she sat down with her back to him.
"Here," he offered, removing his jacket and putting it over her shoulders. He paused, rubbing his own shoulder for a moment. "I do believe I may have injured myself tossing you in."
"Serves you right," she said crossly.
"If that's your idea of the silent treatment, it needs some work," he replied.
She was just about to grab an oar and give him the biggest, iciest splash that she could manage, when she looked up and gasped, realizing they had arrived at their destination. Clearly, here were the "balloons." Sitting atop the water, almost like lily pads, were hundreds of spheres in every colour imaginable. The sun was lower in the sky now, and it was just dark enough for Rose to be able to see the luminescence emanating from them. Their reflection on the water, combined with the waves created by the boat created a collage of colours more beautiful than the most dazzling sunrise she had ever seen on Earth.
"Ah, here we go," he said as the boat neared the shore. He leaned over the side and pulled a blue one from the water.
Rose followed suit and picked one that was a slightly metallic purple colour. "Real balloons," she commented, finally understanding the full meaning of the phrase. Instinctively as if holding a flower, she pressed her face to it and sniffed. "Smells a bit…musky," she said. The texture was different too, she noticed; almost silky.
"So was it worth it?" he asked. "Worth the trip?"
She pondered for a moment. "Worth waiting on the chocolate cake, yes," she acknowledged. "Worth a lovely boat ride to view Mother Nature's splendours on another planet, yes. Worth a dunking into water cold enough to freeze Satan's balls off by a manic alien with a very bad sense of humour, no."
She was holding onto the stem of the balloon and realized that it continued to stay upright. "Will it fly away if I let go?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied. "They grow full of a buoyant gas. The bigger they get, the higher they stretch until they finally break away. it's how the seeds get scattered."
She lifted it to her nose again, breathed deeply and smiled. "They're brilliant," she said finally.
After spending a short time gathering up as many balloons as they could carry, the Doctor turned the boat around and headed back toward the TARDIS. The boat reached the shore, slid onto land and they climbed out.
Rose headed toward the TARDIS, but the Doctor paused for a moment, looking down at the ground at something he had spotted.
"Hang on," he said, stopping to secure the balloons under the boat so they wouldn't fly away. He bent over and picked something up.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Don't know," he replied as he examined the object. It was black and flat, about the size of a small paperback novel, and oblong-shaped. It was rubbery; clearly not of natural origins.
Rose was growing impatient. "Chocolate cake," she reminded him in the most tantalizing voice she could muster.
"All right, all right," he replied. "But we're coming back later to explore."
The TARDIS, despite its sizeable interior, has quite a small doorway. The designers of police boxes in the twentieth century simply never expected two people to enter it at once, let alone two people laden with a rowboat and a large number of alien balloons. The result was a sizeable jumble of balloons and oars, at least one pinched finger, and a great deal of hair standing on end; as it seemed that these balloons did, in fact, share the static-electricity properties of Earth balloons, much to the Doctor's consternation. Rose's hair was in braids, so the effect on her was minimal, but the Doctor's hair went completely awry; even more wild than usual.
Rose, who had been wondering if the balloons could pop, had her curiosity satisfied when two balloons, squeezed between the boat and the TARDIS, exploded with a less-than-impressive pop - really more of a "phlub" - and sent forth a shower of moist and stringy innards, directly into the Doctor's face.
Between the soggy threads in his eyes, the peals of Rose's laughter in his ears, and the nearly complete darkness that had fallen it's really no wonder that he didn't notice the small figure crouching behind a nearby bush, watching them carefully.
Rose, for her part, was far too intent upon getting into the TARDIS to find some dry clothes, to notice the figure herself, but even if she had, she probably wouldn't have given it a second thought given the Doctor's assurances that there were no sentient or harmful life forms on this planet.
The door to the TARDIS closed behind them, and the figure behind the bush emerged, revealing a small body, similar to a four-foot tall, furry monkey. He punched some buttons on a communication device, which beeped in reply.
"We have some new donors," he spoke into the device.
tbc