Notes:
Written for Hanluvr as part of the Fangirlia Secret Santa, using the prompt: House-hunting (with plenty of room for a tree!) for Tentoo x Rose while the TARDIS is growing.
Darling, I hope you enjoy. The rest is yet to come, but my muse has been giving me fits and been very stubborn about this fic. The scaffold is in place, but the bricks and mortar are having trouble sticking together in just the way I would like. As a result, I've decided to post in several smaller chapters, so I could get something to you before the December 31st deadline. Merry Christmas, luv! I think the two of us have been down this road before... more than once! LOL
Many thanks to my brilliant betas mrsbertucci and rose_nebula. You're always there when I need you. (((hugs)))
Chapter Summary: After a cheerful evening of Christmas shopping, Rose comes home to her building to find a trail of debris and damage leading to her flat, where her angry landlady is beating on the door.
CHAPTER 1
Rose danced along the pavement, singing Christmas carols to herself. Shopping bags swung from her mittened hands and the snow crunched merrily under her feet. Soft snowflakes drifted down around her, glistening in the streetlights.
All was right with the world.
In just a few days she would be celebrating Christmas with the love of her life, their first Christmas as a married couple. Well, married in traditional human terms. She and the Doctor had been bonded in Time Lord fashion, telepathically linked, since before Rose had first been trapped in Pete's World. Their bond had been duplicated in her part-human Doctor, along with all the original Doctor's memories and thoughts.
Last Christmas had been full of excitement and celebration. The Doctor had surprised Rose by proposing to her on Christmas morning. Her mum and Pete had been aware of the Doctor's intentions for several weeks, as he had asked for their blessing. In true Jackie Tyler fashion, her mum had decided to transform her annual New Year's Gala into a huge engagement party, complete with an official announcement to the press. "Bleedin' paps. They're like vultures, they are," Jackie had reasoned. "They'll stop at nothin' for a story. Best nip it in the bud and not let rumours get started. And believe me, once they see that ring of yours, there'll be nothin' but rumours and gossip."
From that moment on, even after their wedding in September, Rose and the Doctor's lives had been exhausting as they tried to evade the relentless press. Pete had been forced to establish a top-level security perimeter in the neighborhood around their flat for a short time until the Doctor could cobble together some simple perception filters for him and Rose to wear everywhere outside of home, Torchwood, and official functions. They hated the restrictions but recognized the filters were a necessary evil; wearing them meant Rose and the Doctor could live their lives with relative normalcy, like making it possible for them to do things like going Christmas shopping after work and walking home in the snow, singing carols.
"…I just want you for my own. More than you could ever know. Make my wish come tru-ue. All I want… for Christmas…" The notes of the cheerful Christmas tune died on Rose's tongue as she crossed the street and approached their flat. The snow on the pavement in front of their building looked as though it had had something large dragged through it, and pine needles and twigs were scattered everywhere. The trail continued up the front steps and in through the front door.
Rose's heart sank. All was not right with the world.
As she turned her key in the lock and stepped into the little lobby, she winced at the fresh gouges on the doorjamb and door, and at the porch lamp dangling by its wires. She opened her bond with the Doctor, probing along it gently to assess his mood. A jolt of panic returned to her along their connection, and at precisely the same time, she heard the sound of a fist pounding on a door and the angry shouts of their landlady, Mrs. McGrath, from somewhere a few floors above. She didn't doubt for a moment whose door Mrs. McGrath was beating on…
Rose followed the path of debris, damage, and wet patches of melted snow down the hall and up the stairs, all the way to the third floor (the top floor) where the flat she shared with the Doctor was situated.
Sure enough, old Mrs. McGrath was standing in front of their door, hands on her hips. "Doctor! I know you're in there, skulkin'!" she barked in her light, Scottish brogue. "I've had it with ya, ya great dunderheid! This is the last straw; do ya hear me?" She pummelled her fist against the door again. "Och, I ought ta skelp ya!"
"Mrs. McGrath! Mrs. McGrath!" Rose switched off her perception filter as she rushed toward the enraged elderly woman. She was tiny, but she was fierce, a force to be reckoned with. Her steel-grey hair was tied in a kerchief, and she wore a floral apron over a heavy dress that looked as though it had been made from repurposed curtains.
"Ya better be able to explain this! Ye'll be payin' for all the repairs?"
Rose felt very small under her piercing blue gaze. She nodded, a sigh trickling over her lips. "Of course. As always. You never need to worry about that."
"An' I won't be worryin' about it ag'in! Yer oot! Evicted! As of right noo!"
"No! You can't!"
"I most certainly can, and I will!"
Rose stood up tall and took a step toward the landlady. Might as well be assertive. At this point it can't hurt… much. "On what grounds? Surely you need to give us warnin's and such before you can evict us."
Mrs. McGrath closed the distance between them further and shook her finger directly under Rose's nose. "Don't ye gimme yer cheek, Mrs. Noble." (Rose didn't miss the omission of the "Tyler" portion of her surname.) "I have a list as long as my arm of all the damage tha' great wean of yers has caused in the two short years he's lived here: explosions, electrical fires, water damage, strange odours, the broken countertop. And noo…" she gestured to the detritus covering the floor in front of their doorway, "…this!"
Rose tipped up her chin defiantly. "And we covered the cost of the repairs every time, but–"
"As well ye should've! And, jus' so we understand one another, for your information, I have given him plenty of warnings, in writing. When that toaster caught fire last month, and we needed to evacuate the building, I told him it was yer last chance."
"I never saw any warnings…" She and the Doctor were going to have words over this. What had he been thinking, not telling her something that important?
"Well, they were given, and I dinnae care who your faither is, it's time ye flitted! Yer ta be gone by th'morra."
"Tomorrow! That's impossible, and, besides, it's nearly Christmas!" Rose fought the tears prickling her eyes. "Please, Mrs. McGrath," she grabbed the woman's hand, squeezing gently, "please, can't we talk this over. Come, have a cuppa. I made some Christmas biscuits, this morning…"
Mrs. McGrath stared stonily down at the hand Rose had wrapped around hers and huffed.
"Sorry…" Rose let go of Mrs. McGrath and fished her keys out of her pocket. They clinked together cheerfully in the awkward silence as she fumbled to unlock the door. "Please… just come in, yeah? I'm sure we can work this out."
There was a muffled (manly) yelp from inside the flat as Rose swung the door open. She gaped at the sight before her, and rapidly shut the door again, blocking Mrs. McGrath's view of the disaster within. She plastered a smile across her lips and turned to face the landlady. "On second thought, why don't we–"
"Och, yer no gonna pull the wool over these auld eyes, lassie." Mrs. McGrath's expression was nothing short of triumphant. "I think I'd quite fancy a wee fly cup and a biscuit, after all. And, I hafta say," she narrowed her shrewd eyes at Rose, "I'm deid keen on seein' what yer hidin' behind that door."