The Sixth Day of Christmas
Rose woke the next morning with a stretch and a yawn and sleepily rolled to her side to check the time on her alarm clock. Except, where the alarm clock normally was she instead found a stack of old leather-bound books. She opened hers eyes fully and lifted herself up on her elbows to look around, momentarily disoriented and alarmed. As the grogginess of sleep left her, and the room around her came into focus, she silently laughed at herself for her distress. She just wasn't accustomed to waking up at the Doctor's flat.
She'd certainly stayed here before, but only a handful of times. He'd been living at the mansion with Rose and her family for so long that they'd both agreed when he rented this flat that he needed some time in his own space. She looked to her left to see if she'd woken him, and wasn't entirely surprised to find that his side of the bed was empty, the duvet neatly pulled up to the pillow. She could hear the Doctor padding around the flat, but could tell from the angle of the light coming through the windows that it was still very early in the morning. She needed to go into work today for at least a few hours before tonight's big New Year's Eve celebrations, but decided to snuggle back in the blankets â just for a few more minutes.
She was woken up some time later to the Doctor singing, loudly and a bit off-key, as he entered the room.
"Ohhhh, what a beee-utiful mornin'!" The Doctor sang as he neared the bed. Rose burrowed deeper into the blankets, pulling the duvet up over her head and biting back a laugh at his over-the-top treatment of the song.
"Oh, what a beautiful day," the Doctor continued, in a sweeter and truer tone. Rose felt something large and heavy set in the middle of the bed and pulled the duvet down just enough to peek out over it at the Doctor's smiling face.
"Good morning, beautiful," he said, bending down to kiss the top of her head. "I've made breakfast, if you'd like to sit up and share it with me."
Rose pulled the duvet down a bit more and was met with the delightful aroma of eggs and coffee.
"Mmm, smells heavenly," she said as she sat up fully in bed and rubbed her eyes to wake more fully. "Thank you."
When the Doctor didn't answer, she looked at him and was surprised to find him just staring at her. His eyes were dark with an emotion that she couldn't quite identify. It could be longing. Or maybe she had a giant spot on her face.
"What is it?" She asked as she ran a hand self-consciously over her face and into her hair.
Her voice seemed to have broken some sort of a spell; the Doctor blinked and shook his head slightly before replying.
"I was just thinking of how lovely you look first thing in the morning, especially in my bed." he said, his voice very serious. He regarded her for another few moments before smiling and moving the breakfast tray to her lap.
"Breakfast, milady."
Rose looked down at the tray and felt her jaw drop. There was an omelette, a pile of scrambled eggs, and a fried egg, as well as wheat toast, orange juice, and coffee.
"I can't eat all that!" she protested.
"I should certainly hope not!" the Doctor replied as he walked around the bed to sit down next to Rose. He leaned in toward her and took two forks off the tray, handing one to her. "They're for us to share."
"Thank goodness for that!" Rose laughed as she playfully clinked her fork against the Doctor's before stabbing it into some of the scrambled egg. The Doctor made an excellent breakfast and they ate quietly for a few minutes, stealing small glances at each other. Rose still felt badly about her initial reaction to the tickets last night, and felt the need to let him know.
"I'm really sorry about last night, y'know." She said quietly, looking down at her hands.
"Rose, you don'tâ" the Doctor started, but Rose cut him off, looking up to hold his gaze.
"No, I do. The tickets are wonderful. Everything you've done for me this Christmas has been wonderful. I feel like I disappointed you last night, and I don't want you to think I don't appreciate everything you're doing." She spoke in a rush, wanting to say everything before she lost her courage.
The Doctor turned toward her and raised his right hand to cup her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, before confessing softly, "I love you. I want to be with you. I want to take that next step with you."
She felt the Doctor brush his lips against hers in a soft kiss. He pulled back and rubbed his thumb along her cheek until she opened her eyes to look at him. When she did, he gave her a small smile.
"I love you, too, Rose Tyler. And I meant what I said that day in Norway. I'll spend the rest of my life with you, if you like."
Rose felt tears well in her eyes as she smiled and nodded. "I would like, very much."
The Doctor smiled warmly back at her and shifted back on the bed a bit. Just as she had last night, Rose had the feeling that he was contemplating some action or words. She felt her heart skip a beat as she thought perhaps he might propose right here, right now. But instead, the Doctor glanced at his watch and his eyes widened in surprise.
"Look at the time! You're expected at work in 40 minutes. I'm still not used to this losing track of time thing. Finish up your gift and pop in the shower. I'll pack you a lunch and drive you to work."
Trying not to sound too disappointed, Rose asked, "My gift?"
He nodded at her breakfast tray. "Look under your plate."
She lifted up her plate and found the familiar white envelope. She opened it and read the note inside:
On the sixth day of Christmas, the Doctor gave to me: a six-egg breakfast (to share).
***
The Doctor opened the door to his flat after dropping Rose at work and tossed his keys on the entryway table. He shucked his coat and tossed it over the back of the couch as he walked through the living room and into his bedroom. Sitting on the floor, he opened his wardrobe drawer and pulled out the velvet pouch containing the ring.
Rose had been quiet and a bit withdrawn on the ride into work. He knew she felt badly about wishing yesterday's gift had been a ring instead of the tickets. And he did want to give her the ring. In fact, seeing her in his bed this morning, and hearing her say that she wanted to spend her life with him, he'd almost pulled open the drawer and popped the question right then and there.
He weighed the velvet pouch in his hand. He'd made her wait so long before she'd finally heard him say "I love you." When he made this declaration, he wanted it to be just right. But he also knew he didn't want to wait much longer. He was growing just as impatient as she seemed to be.
He tucked the velvet pouch into his trouser pocket, deciding that he'd know when the time was right and wanting to be prepared for when that time arrived.
