A/N: My second stab at Doctor Who fics. Came up with this idea while I was sick, myself. If only I had the Doctor too look after me, lol. Hope you enjoy!

Playing Doctor

He walked through the Tardis, thinking about this galaxy and that, trying to figure out where they would go next. There was so much that he wanted to show her, so much to see and what felt like endless time to do it. He wondered if she was up yet. An awake Rose was necessary for a little time trip and as he neared her bedroom he was startled by a rather loud and jarring string of sneezes, which was followed by an equally loud and jarring string of expletives.

He knocked on her door and an unhappy voice told him, "Come in." When he walked in he found Rose still in bed, her back pressed against the bed's headboard and mouth screwed into a frown as she double-fisted two mounds of tissues.

"Are you alright?" he asked gingerly.

"Do I look alright?" she threw back weakly with narrowed eyes. Her glare was remarkably effective until she began to sneeze again.

"Alright, tell me what is wrong," he said, stepping deftly past her sour mood. "Chills? Fever?" He moved forward and placed a deliberate hand on her forehead. "Alright, no fever. Are you nauseous? I have some chamomile tea somewhere. I know it tastes absolutely horrid but probably could be a bit of help!"

She stared at him as he prattled on, but then her eyes squeezed shut as another series of sneezes befell her. Once she could speak again she told him, "I have a cold, Doctor. I just need some rest. And you need to stay out of here. No reason you should catch it, too."

"Ah, don't worry about that," he answered easily. "My genes are superior to such a basic virus."

"Are you calling my genes inferior?"

"No," he answered logically. "You are simply human. I am a Time Lord and Time Lords are not affected by something as common as-"

"The common cold?" she filled in. He gave a chipper nod of his head and she muttered, "Well, lucky you."

"Chicken noodle soup," he said with a triumphant pump of his fist. "That is exactly what you need!"

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled.

"Of course you're not," he said. "The virus has stripped you of your appetite, but never fear Rose, I make a mean chicken soup."

"I'm still not hungry."

"No matter," he said crisply, already at the doorway. "I'll be back in a jiff!"

Rose slumped in the bed, sniffling as she pulled the covers farther up. She usually enjoyed the Doctor's company. There was something invigorating about his boundless energy, but at the current moment the last thing she wanted was to be invigorated. She wanted to close her eyes and sleep until her throat didn't feel like a cactus had taken residence there.

But the Doctor would be returning with chicken noodle soup. She didn't even know the Doctor knew how to cook. In fact, she didn't think that he really could and wondered if it was possible for her to feel even worse. Yes, she decided. One horrendous cup of whatever soup the Doctor was whipping up could indeed make her feel worse.

"And here is the soup!" the Doctor announced, bounding into the room after a much too brief stint in the kitchen. Narrowing her eyes she said, "Soup does not cook that quickly."

"You really must be delirious," he said, leaning forward to check her temperature again as he set the soup down. Irritably she swatted his hand away and huffed, "Enough of that! I do not have a fever. I would know if I had a fever."

The Doctor only stared at her and then nodded crisply and said, "You need soup."

"Alright, hand it over," she muttered, reaching her hands out. "Let's get this done with, yeah?"

"Such negativity," he quipped.

"You try feeling like there is an animal trying to claw its way up your throat. You wouldn't be a ball of sunshine either." She could see the cogs in his mind whir and she quickly said, "I was just joking. No small creatures in my throat."

"I've had it before," he said with a shrug as her mouth dropped open. "Awful buggers." She stared at him and he said, "Muffles. Very common where I'm from."

"That is…awful."

"Soup time," he said easily, as if having small creatures crawling in your throat was perfectly normal.

"Will you leave me alone after this?" she asked, blowing on the soup.

"Yes, I will leave you alone."

"Alright then," she mumbled, nodding her head.

"Bottoms up," he urged.

The soup ended up not being terrible. A bit overseasoned, but she didn't tell him that. Chest puffed out as he watched her finish every drop he proudly said, "You feel better now don't you?"

"Ah yeah," she answered, nodding her head. "Tons. Now go, you don't have to hang about here. You have Tardis-y things to do, right?"

"I suppose I could do a little maintenance. Check the runnings for tomorrow. You'll be better by then?"

"Tip top shape," she answered.

"Alright, well-"

"Go on," she said, gesturing for him to be on his way. "I'll still be here when you come back."

"Alright, if you need me just holler, yeah?"

She nodded and he hesitated for just a moment before turning and leaving the room. Her stomach gurgled uncomfortably.

Damn soup.

She was not better by the next day.

The cold dragged on, stuffing her nose and grating on her throat. Her voice adopted the gravelly tone of night performer while her pert nose seemed to draw inspiration from a certain reindeer. In short, this being sick was getting old.

She reached for another Kleenex, plucking it from the box and then proceeding to blow her nose rather loudly. "Blimey," the Doctor bellowed, striding into the room. "Strange that such a large noise comes from something so tiny!"

"Are you here to mock me?" she asked sourly, not in the mood or state for the Doctor's (un)astute observations.

"No, I am here to keep you company." She smiled a bit at that, a smile that faltered as he edged his way onto the edge of her bed and said, "Move over now."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Keeping you company." He caught her expression at him sharing a bed with her and said, "You don't expect me to stand, do you?"

"There's this thing called a chair. Marvelous invention…"

"But this is so much comfier!" Rose made a disgruntled noise as the Doctor's formed pushed her over onto the side of the bed. "See, togetherness! It's what life is made for!"

"Yeah," she grumbled, not convinced that togetherness was what she needed at this exact moment.

"Come on now, get comfy."

"I was comfy," she argued weakly. "Before you took half my bed."

"You really are cranky when you're sick," he pointed out.

"I'm tired," she shot back. The Doctor's grinned wide and answered, "Well, then you should sleep! Go on, I won't be a bother. Can even use my arm if you'd like."

"No thank you," Rose said stiffly, although she had to admit the idea was mildly appealing. She turned on her side and buried her face into the pillow. Beside her the Doctor began to shift, the bed creaking and whining.

"Doctor," she said in warning.

"Sorry, right-o," he said crisply.

She closed her eyes, feeling a slight chill in the room. As if reading her mind, the Doctor pulled the covers further over her shoulders. Burrowing deeper into the pillows she drifted off, her last lucid thought being that she hoped she didn't snore.

By the third day, Rose was up and running. The Doctor watched happily as she chose their next destination and said, "Look at you! All geared for our next adventure!"

"As always," she answered with a grin.

"You can thank my soup for that."

Biting back laughter she told him, "Yes Doctor, of course."

A/N: Feedback would be awesome. So...review away!