AN: I now have the Em Yle time and date system explained on my website if you wish to have a reference. See profile.
For the next few days, the flat was even more cramped than usual. The bed and sofa arrived earlier than planned, before Rose and the Doctor had had a chance to choose a carpet.
"At least we've got one bed out the way," the Doctor puffed after having assisted their landlord in getting the old mattress and the blocks into his garage, and stood the new bed in its place. At last. They had had to put up with an extra bed taking up space in the flat for three days before the opportunity had arisen.
"We could just move the rest into the garage temporarily when the carpet's put down," Rose suggested. "Or just shove everything over to one side, do half the room at a time. It's almost two rooms anyway."
"Have to ask Elsa if that's possible."
Outside of the redecorating, life in the flat was still shifting key. The Doctor was no longer able to cook every evening; something Rose realised she hadn't properly appreciated when he'd done it. She had invested in a few beginners' cookbooks and, for the most part, things weren't turning out too badly. At least she had avoided setting the flat on fire.
They had finally got around to buying a calendar, which served the double purpose of keeping track of the days, and helping Rose learn the months, which had taken longer than the days of the week.
"Enday, forty-seventh of Aquis," Rose said happily, ticking off the date. "Only sixty-three more days till summer!"
The Doctor chuckled. "You have a one-track mind, Rose."
"I can't help it; I don't like rain. Even if it's usually avoidable."
Between them they made up the new bed, and as one jumped onto it, giggling. "Yes, definitely the right choice," the Doctor said as they sank into the mattress right where they had landed, shoulder to shoulder.
Rose grinned and closed her eyes, shifting slightly closer to him. "Mmm. Wish it was bedtime now. I don't wanna get up."
"Well, not wanting to be a party-pooper, but you've got an evening shift to get to."
She groaned, but didn't move. The Doctor pulled her pillow out from under her head and playfully hit her with it.
"OY! Right, you asked for it!"
A ferocious pillow fight began, which was cut short by the Doctor falling off the bed.
"Ow!"
"Doctor? You all right?"
"Yeah … just a bit bruised."
"In that case, I declare myself the winner!" Rose said, raising her pillow in triumph.
"It's nearly sixteen o'clock."
Rose swore and bolted off the bed. The Doctor sighed and stretched out on the bed, carefully arranging himself so he could smell Rose's scent; distinct even when everything was freshly laundered.
When Rose got home that night, she found the Doctor already in bed, watching the telly. He looked over as she came in. "Hi. Good evening?" He sat up, looking closer. "What happened to you?"
Rose tugged her sticky trainers off. "You know those massive packs of baked beans? The big plastic jars that weigh a tonne?"
"Yeah …"
"One fell off the top shelf and nearly gave me concussion."
The Doctor scrambled out of bed, looking alarmed, but Rose shook her damp head. "It's fine, just a bruise. It didn't actually land on my head, just clipped me on the way down. I'm more concerned with the tomato sauce. I had to clean myself off in the Ladies—"
She stopped speaking as the Doctor, now right in front of her, gently parted her hair and felt the tender part. Oajrey, who was in charge of First Aid, had given her a good examining after the incident, but Rose wasn't going to stop him. She rather liked the feel of his fingers on her skin—at least, she did up until the point where he ran into a still-sticky patch, accidentally pulling her hair.
"Ow!"
"Sorry," he whispered.
The Doctor rescued his fingers, and continued his examination. "That looks okay to me. Nothing serious."
"Good," Rose whispered. She wasn't sure why they were whispering. It was late, but the walls weren't that thin. But somehow it felt appropriate. The Doctor was standing only inches away from her, and despite his diagnosis, had so far not withdrawn his hands. He was still running his fingers through her hair, as if …
Their heads grew nearer, and Rose's heart began pounding at double speed. He wasn't going to … was he?
They were practically nose to nose. "May I?" he whispered.
