Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, but will claim all mistakes
Summary: Single red-tipped yellow rose, Birthday
He places the single stemmed rose across the empty plate, bright yellow coloring highlighted with red tips standing out in sharp contrast to the muted white china. Letting his eyes sweep the room taking in the carefully orchestrated breakfast he's created, from the silver tray aligned with an assortment of fruits, peeled, cut sliced and diced in an intricate motif of colors and shapes, the sausages sizzling in hot grease punctuating the air with random pops, bubbling water just beginning to boil, eagerly awaiting tea bags, to the slices of bread standing in strict upright attention as silent vigils prepared for orders, he sets a chilled glass of fresh juice onto the table, moisture beginning to form around the sides adapting to the change in temperature.
Satisfied, he allows himself a small grin, once again shushing the voice in his head that tells him he doesn't do domestics, this is a celebration, a special occasion, therefore, technically it's not, considered domestic.
His blue eyes raise in desirous anticipation as he hears light footsteps approaching. Suddenly he is animated, turning he depresses the lever on the toaster, hearing a click as the bread falls towards the heated coils, pivoting he tosses tea bags into the scalding water and grabs another plate spinning back to the liberate the browned sausages, finally, inhales deeply forcing himself to relax, ending the waltz and assuming a nonchalant stance as he faces the entry. His face breaks into a manic 'who wouldn't be impressed with me' grin as he imagines her reaction to this skillful and carefully calculated performance.
Rose burst through the door in a wild flurry of activity, eyes bright with excitement, blond hair tied up into a single ponytail with a pale blue scarf bouncing with each step, a pastel pink polo just covered the tops of tight blue jeans and a pair of comfortable trainers completed the ensemble, announcing her hasty dress and headlong eagerness to face whatever the day would bring.
"Got tired of waiting for you to wake me up," she exclaimed brightly, reaching around him for a piece of sausage, popping it into her mouth then amidst a gasp, snatched the glass of juice and gulped a mouthful to cool the burning within. Wiping her lips with the back of her hand she rapidly retreated, "Jack and I will be exploring a bit whilst you finish breakfast." she called back over her shoulder, footsteps and voice receding. "Don't be long!"
The Doctor stood stock-still, unblinking, mouth ajar, in the aftermath of the tornado that had swept through the kitchen, leaving a large path of emotional chaos in its' wake.
Him. A Time Lord. One with billions of words at his disposal in as many languages, was left speechless and dumbfounded. That was utterly, and totally, beyond a doubt, not a reaction he had contemplated, nor would it have arisen in any one of his regenerations thoughts.
Dropping heavily into a chair, he seriously contemplated different ways to dispose of Jack, then accepted it was in fact, his own stupidity and arrogance assuming she would know this was all for her. Never before had he let her sleep in so late, or taken great care to land on a quiet planet for a little holiday, complete with a shopping mall, spa, fair, beach and peaceful inhabitants, made her breakfast other than toast, or suggest he wanted to celebrate or even acknowledge her birthday.
He reached for the flower, twirled it around a few times in his hand. Standing, the stench of burnt sausages reached his nostrils followed immediately by a downpouring of water, soaking through his jumper while dousing the small fire on the stove. Blinking droplets out of his eyes he made his way to her room, and lay the rose on her pillow.
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It had been an enjoyable day, a whirlwind of sights, sounds, scary and daring rides to be goaded onto, squeals of laughter, hand holding, experimental alien foods to taste, brief hugs, exotic drinks to share and quick kisses between slow dances, then a late night fireworks display.
A very weary Rose made her way back to her room smiling contentedly as she thought, this had quite possibly been the best birthday ever, even if she was the only one that knew. A frown creased her brow upon spying a single stemmed, yellow rose upon her pillow. She couldn't shake the thought it looked familiar somehow as she picked it up revealing a small piece of paper underneath with just two simple words.
Happy Birthday.
