Rose arrives home from her mum's to find the Doctor has been very busy in her absence.

WARNING: post-partum body image issues discussed

The second half of this story was inspired by a prompt from Timepetalsprompts over on Tumblr, a long while back: hidden. I originally planned to make it a drabble, but it just fit so well with this story… and a drabble wasn't nearly long enough, anyway.

Chapter 4

Rose rushed up the steps of the TARDIS-blue house, Hope asleep in the car seat, swinging at her side. The Doctor would be home any minute now, and she hadn't even begun to think about what was for supper. Not that there was any food in the fridge. Or any clean pots to cook with. Or any dishes to eat from. She sighed. Takeaway again… She missed the camaraderie she and the Doctor had always shared in the kitchen, the effortless rhythm they had developed when cooking together. Even from Rose's early days on the TARDIS, when the Doctor had been dressed in jumpers and leather, they had worked in tandem, two parts of a whole. She was desperate to have that comforting rhythm return to her life. It would likely be a while…

In an effort to see things in a positive light, she reminded herself that at least she wouldn't have to worry about preparing food for Hope probably for months now. Since yesterday evening, after the baby had finally been able to latch, there had only been a few minor setbacks and the subsequent anxiety attacks. And now, with a properly full tummy, Hope had been napping more soundly and for somewhat longer periods. Spending time with her Mum and Tony had been a welcome diversion too.

No… this had definitely been a good day.

Now, if she could just get through the evening… Her mum was right: she would have to speak to the Doctor and possibly break his single human heart in the process.

As she shoved the front door open with her shoulder, she was met with a wonderful aroma: supper, already being prepared. Pushing further into the house, she stepped into the living room, and was dumbfounded at the sight before her: a clean, tidy, cozy home. She set Hope down, and wandered into the kitchen. Every surface gleamed, the sink was empty and shining, and the only pots in sight were the ones on the stove-top: the source of the wonderful smells.

"Ah-ah!" the Doctor scolded from behind her, as she reached with quivering fingers to lift the lid of the nearest pot.

Startled, she jumped. "Blimey!" she gulped, her heart thundering against her ribs.

The Doctor chortled. "I'm sorry, love. So sorry."

"Prat!"

"Oh, is that all the thanks I get? Slaving all day…"

"Oh, no!" Rose bit her bottom lip, tears welling in her eyes. "No Doctor, 's wonderful! I… I don't know what to say." She dashed away a tear that trickled over her cheek.

The Doctor stepped up to her, gathering her to him. "Oh, weeeell, you could start by mentioning how brilliant I am…"

"You think you're so impressive." She managed a tongue-touched smile.

"I am so impressive, as well you know, Rose Tyler! And after you've had a look around, you will probably want to update my status to 'pure house-keeping genius'. But, I'll ask you to hold your opinion until you have been upstairs. Because then… then, my love, then you will realize you are in the presence of the 'True Husband-God'." He released her with a soft kiss on her forehead, and helped her out of her jacket.

With a hand pressed to her lower back, he guided her out of the kitchen and over to the bottom of the stairs. "Off you go, love. You will find a bath awaiting you: the perfect temperature and filled with bubbles. Go on," he urged. "I'll bring Hope up."

Rose's tears spilled over, and she turned to nestle herself against him, sobbing. Her words choked in her throat. "I… I… I love you!"

"I love you, too. Now go on, before your bath gets cold. I'll come and check on you in a few minutes and scrub your back if you like."

-oOo-

About twenty minutes later, the Doctor stood in the bedroom doorway, admiring Rose. She was frowning at her reflection, robe hanging open around her. Catching sight of him in the mirror, she gasped, hastily covering herself.

He stepped into the room to stand behind her, and pressed a kiss against her temple. Reaching around her waist, he untied the robe again. He let his gaze rove over her reflection. "You're so beautiful. Please don't keep yourself hidden from me."

Meeting his eyes in the mirror, she forced a chuckle. "I look like a Slitheen."

"Nah, wrong skin-tone, love."

"Shut up…" she muttered with a wry smirk.

"Rose, your lovely, human body has just done an ama-zing thing. You nurtured a brilliant, little person in there; a little person who was created, to some extent, because I find her Mummy to be an exceptionally sexy human."

She gestured to the mirror. "Pfffft," she huffed, "I'm not sexy. Not anymore. I'm all saggy and stretch-marked and…" She choked back a sob and crossed her arms over her abdomen.

He turned her around to face him and dropped to his knees before her, tugging her hands away from her belly and replacing them with his own. Touching her skin with reverent strokes, he tried to catch her eye, but she tipped her chin up, face turned from him, her lower lip quivering. "What? These marks here?" He ran his fingers along the darkened stripes of her stretch marks. "From my perspective, they're brilliant! Beautiful! A badge of honour! And this extra little bit of skin is just more for me to love. And every bit as soft as the rest of you… softer, really!" He kissed her belly.

"Softer…!" she scoffed. "I'm jus' fat…"

He stood up, and pushed the robe from her shoulders. He trailed his hands along the tempting hourglass contours of her body. "Softer..." he breathed into her ear. His hands stopped when they cupped her bum through her knickers. Giving her buttocks a gentle squeeze, he pulled her against him, and leaned in to taste her lips. "Curvier... Cuddlier... All so our little Hope can snuggle with her mum, and not put out her eye against some pointy old bone of yours."

The Doctor's heart soared when Rose giggled, and she tucked her head against his shoulder. "All for 'er benefit, is it?" She pulled back again, grinning up at him.

"Weeell, I suppose there is quite a substantial gain for me too…" He made a point of ogling Rose's swollen breasts, with an impudent waggle of his eyebrows.

"Git!"

"Yup! But I'm your git."

"Yeah, y' are. But you know we 'ave to wait a while yet before we…"

"…Dance? I know, love," he pressed his forehead to hers. "I'll be all right. Let's just try to enjoy this evening? I'm just about to dish up. So open that present of yours," he nodded toward the beribboned package on the bed, "and meet me downstairs when you're ready."