Title: Concept of Beauty
Author: Angel Leviathan
Spoilers: None, I think.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who, concept, characters, etc, aren't mine.
Notes: First Doctor Who fic, sorry if its awful.
"Rose?" The Doctor knocked on his companion's door late into the afternoon, if they ever had such a thing as an afternoon, hoping to question her as to where they should go next. It was her turn to choose, after all, "Rose?" he pushed the door open and poked his head round, "Don't tell me you've gone back to bed at this hour…" He discovered her room to be empty once he'd walked inside a few paces. He took the time to glance around, finding various objects strewn across the floor, her bag dumped in the corner, despite the perfectly adequate wardrobe, yet the bed was made and strangely neat. He sauntered closer to discover a single, small bag, half unzipped, sitting alone in the centre of the duvet. Too curious for his own good, the Doctor sat on the edge of her bed and unzipped the bag. He took a glance inside, pulling out several items at once, "…Sky at night…radiant red…" the small pallet and bottle of liquid seemed laughable. Make-up. She still wore make-up. Then again, she was a woman of the twenty first century after all. At least she wasn't of the twenty third when those horrible full facial glittery things had… He frowned as he pulled another item from the bag. It looked vaguely threatening before he realised exactly what it was, even contemplated trapping his own eyelashes in it for a laugh. Maybe it would be more fun the next time they got absolutely plastered together. Now that was a plan.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Rose strode into the room, clad in shorts and a strap top, towel round her head.
He winced, knowing he'd been caught. However, he refused to show such a guilty expression to her, and so straightened, turning to face her with an innocent smile, "Trying to figure out why you spend so long in the bathroom every morning?"
"From somebody who can only be described as a bathroom hog…" Rose untwisted the towel from her hair, shaking her head, sending droplets of water everywhere.
He frowned and collapsed back onto her bed, "Are you sure you're housetrained?"
"Don't you mean Tardis trained?" her voice was muffled as she attempted to towel dry her hair.
"This is a house, I'll have you know."
"Biggest house I've ever lived in," she abandoned the towel, dropping it to the floor and taking a very deliberate step over it, ignoring the offending item.
"Biggest world you've lived in," the Doctor smiled and reached for a pillow, which he positioned behind his head.
She shot him a grin, "That too," she wandered round to the other side of the bed and began to retrieve the various items he'd scattered from her make-up bag from the duvet, "Anyway, back to the question; what did you think you were doing?" she demanded, hands on her hips.
He blinked up at the ceiling, silently, hint of a hidden smile on his features.
Rose peered down at him, expecting an answer. She doubled over, planting a hand on either side of him, staring eye to eye, trying to look threatening, if only he weren't upside down from her point of view, "Well?"
The Doctor grinned and kissed her forehead before escaping, "You don't need that stuff, you know," he sat up.
"What?" she returned to gathering up her property.
"Eyeshadow, mascara, lipgloss, eyelash curlers!" he laughed, as if the concept of the last item was preposterous.
"And what would you know, Mr-wears-the-same-jacket-every-day?" Rose raised an eyebrow, smirking, shoving the items back into the small bag from which they'd been randomly removed.
"I'm not talking about me, here."
"Good, 'cause I saw you eyeing those eyelash curlers…"
"For shame."
She ran her fingers through her still soaking wet hair, "Did you steal my hairbrush too?"
The Doctor made a noise in his throat that sounded suspiciously like laughter, "Do I really need it?" he glanced back at her.
"Good point."
He turned round to face her, lying across her bed, "I'm serious, Rose, you don't need that stuff."
"Shoes, bed, off," she mumbled, retrieving her hairbrush from under the same piece of furniture.
"Since when did you become so house proud?"
"Since I learnt this was a house," Rose started dragging the brush through her hair, "You were saying?"
He frowned before he continued, "Its so superficial."
"Try telling that to every other person in the world."
"Why bother?"
"Because I don't fancy stumbling out of bed and through the Tardis door looking a state," she replied, throwing the brush down on the duvet.
"I don't think you look a state," he insisted.
"You're not all those people out there. And you would say that," Rose threw the pillow he had left at him.
"Rose, I'm the one who has to drag you out of bed in the morning and who has to put up with the incoherent babble before you've downed at least three cups of tea. I'm the one who witnessed the incident with that very expensive blender you insisted we needed-"
"You were the one at the kitchen door laughing his arse off!" she accused, smiling.
"You have to admit it was funny…" the Doctor seemed briefly amused once more before he became serious again, "Who cares how you look when you step out that door?"
She sat down on the edge of the bed, still smiling faintly, "'Cause they don't know me and you do. So you've seen me running around in my underwear because I still can't stand to do laundry, seen me when I had that colossal hangover after that night we spent drinking in that alien bar, seen me hanging around in the control room, looking and feeling absolutely exhausted because I still can't sleep… Don't you get that? You only dress up for the world that doesn't see you, the person, just you, the appearance. I trust you. I don't care what state you see me in. I'm just me."
The Doctor reached out to tuck a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, "Everyone's concept of beauty is different. Every world, every race, every person," he smiled, "and you are beautiful even in that dishevelled heap of a state I find you in on most mornings. You're a person, Rose, not some kid's Barbie doll. Can't you show the rest of the world?"
She looked down, almost ashamed, "No."
"Why?"
"…Because I don't want them to know me like you know me," Rose said softly, reaching for his hand. She leant back, resting her head on his chest, lying at right angles to each other, fingers entwined, easily silent. They were silent for many long minutes, still content, Rose absently staring at their joined hands.
"…Rose?" he said quietly.
"Yeah?
She felt the rumble of soft laughter through his chest, "Better hide those eyelash curlers."
Fin