A New Year's story, fashionably late.
All my love and thanks to my betas, Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci, and to my encourager-in-chief, aintfraidanoghosts.
Come visit me at my Tumblr and on AO3 (TenRoseForeverandever)
A Bottle of Bubbly
Rose Tyler staggered out into the night. The pub door swung shut behind her, silencing the raucous shouts and cheers and endless chatter. As she stood on the doorstep, the bubble of silence clung around her like a hug, before dissipating into the city, replaced by the steady rumble of traffic. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs and clear the spinning of her head.
She was alone.
New Years-fucking-Eve and she was alone. Not exactly how she had planned her evening to go, but she swore to herself, it was the last bloody time, Jimmy Stone, her cheating ex-boyfriend, would ever get another chance to ruin her life.
But Rose didn't want to think about him right now. He was now officially part of her past and could rot in hell for all she cared. What she did want to think about was enjoying the rest of the night and bringing in the New Year properly plastered. She'd already made a decent start of it with a couple glasses of wine and a few shots. She supposed she could try out a few different spots (far away from Jimmy-the-Wanker), and do a regular old pub crawl, solo-style. Dressed to kill, she reckoned she'd never be without a drink in hand and would probably have no trouble finding a bloke to pull.
A car whizzed by, drunken twats hanging out the passenger windows, catcalling at her, spouting some shite about having her "seeing fireworks all night long." She tugged her coat tighter around herself and sighed. On second thought, shagging complete strangers wasn't really her thing. Maybe she could meet up with Mickey, instead, at the local near the Estate. With a little coaxing, he might take her home for a cheeky shag to bring in the New Year. It wouldn't exactly be fireworks, but it would be safe and familiar. And she wouldn't be alone. Mickey had never been able to say no to her.
But then – she sighed, and her shoulders sagged – she'd have to explain herself, answer all his nosy questions, admit things she'd rather keep to herself for now. Everyone would know, soon enough. No doubt the Estate would be rife with the gossip of her falling-out with Jimmy by daybreak. Besides, she'd be taking Mickey away from Trisha Delaney. That wasn't fair, doing to Trisha exactly what had just been done to her.
"For fuck's sake," she snorted as she stumbled onto the pavement, her head woozy with drink, "I'm worried about hurting Trisha Delaney's feelings. The stupid cow! Clearly, I'm thinkin' too bloody hard about this. More to the point, I'm able to think too bloody hard about this. And I'm talking to myself… Blimey, I need another drink."
Setting out on her quest for another pub (just for drinks, no pulling, she reminded herself), she tottered down the street, swaying precariously on her too-high heels, tugging down her too-short dress as the bitter wind bit through the too-sheer fabric of her tights. This was rubbish, hopping from pub to pub. All she really wanted was something strong to drink, her warm flat, and her telly. She'd be alone, but she'd be warm and, with any luck, thoroughly pissed long before midnight.
Decision made, she hopped on the nearest bus, and half an hour later, with the effects of her earlier drinks lamentably wearing off, she trotted into the 24-hour Tesco, close to the Estate. She made directly for the liquor aisle, determined that what she really wanted to bring in the New Year was a bottle of bubbly.
The shop was nearly deserted, except for the unlucky few employees who had drawn the short straw for the night's graveyard shift, so she was shocked to find another customer in the liquor aisle, standing in front of the wine shelves, his hand around the neck of the very last bottle of sparkling wine.
"Oi! That's my bottle, mate!"
The man turned to her, his brow knit quizzically above his aquiline nose. "Excuse me?" he challenged in a strong Manc accent.
"That's my bottle," she reiterated.
"No," he placed the bottle into his shopping basket with a tight-lipped smile, "it's not." Without another word, he turned his back to her and walked away up the aisle with long strides.
"Fuck," Rose muttered through gritted teeth and rushed after his receding form. "Oi, Mister! Mister!" She caught up with him just as he reached the end of the aisle and she tugged on the battered leather sleeve of his jacket.
He swung around, rolling his eyes at the sight of her. "Oh, it's you again!"
"Yup, jus' me. Hello! The owner of that bottle of fizz." She sidled up to him and flashed him what she hoped was a winning smile. She even poked her tongue between her teeth. That always had blokes dribbling on their shirts.
Much to Rose's disappointment, the man remained unmoved, stony-faced as ever. Then with a snort, he turned and walked away from her once more.
"Oi! Mister!" she yelped, scurrying to catch up to him again. "You can't jus' go swannin' off like that…"
He didn't even break his stride. "Yes, I can. 'Ere I am. This is me, swannin' off." He gave the shopping basket a defiant little shake.
Rose knew she should just give it up at this point, go back to the liquor aisle and find something different to drink, but she was determined to have that wine. After having had her night ruined, she reckoned she deserved to have something special. "Hey, Mister! C'mon! You can't just walk away. That's not fair. Mister! Mist– Oooph!" She nearly crashed into him when he suddenly stopped in front of her.
He spun around and glared at her. "Seems fair enough to me. W'at isn' fair is you not lettin' me do my shoppin' in peace. Now, scram!"
Rose held her ground, meeting his gaze. He was a striking figure, quite a bit older than she, dark and brooding, his features unconventionally handsome below his military haircut. She should have been intimidated, but instead she found herself getting lost in the blue of his eyes as they flashed down at her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I could call security, ya know! Tell them you took it from me. So, it's your choice. Hand it over, or I'll start screamin' for help."
He scoffed. "Is that supposed to sound tough?"
"Sort of."
He called her bluff, "Doesn't work," and started walking again, but this time she tripped along by his side. She wasn't going to let him go, not while he still had that bottle.
"Mister… I need that wine! If you knew what I've been through tonight…"
"You need to leave me alone. Looks to me like you've 'ad quite enough to drink already."
"C'mon, Mister. Please."
"No! An' it's Doctor."
Rose quirked an eyebrow at him.
"You keep calling me 'Mister'. If you're so set on using honorifics, you'd better use the right one. I go by Doctor."
"Doctor? Is that supposed to sound impressive?"
"Sort of, yeah."
"If you're a doctor, how comes you're shoppin' at a 24-hour Tesco… in Peckham?"
"I live 'ere. Jus' 'round the corner." He stopped at the deli counter and tossed some packages of sandwich meats and some cheese into his basket.
"What? On the estate? You must be new. I haven' seen you 'round 'ere before."
"That's 'cause I jus' moved in this afternoon, me, and I'm having this champagne (or whatever the hell it is) to celebrate."
"Blimey, don't think we've ever had a doctor livin' on the estate, before." Rose narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at him, curious. "W'at's a doctor doin' livin' 'ere anyway?"
He didn't speak, just stared at her with eyes cold as ice, and his jaw set and tense, and Rose bit her lip, wishing she could take back her brazen words. It was none of her business why anyone might need council housing.
"Erm... Doctor, you're gonna need some bread to go with that other stuff," she ventured, attempting to make up for her thoughtlessness, "an' some milk and tea, maybe some eggs. And a couple cans of beans. Ya can't go wrong wi' beans-on-toast." She linked her arm with his and proceeded to lead him through the shop.
As Rose nattered away to him, he maintained a detached silence, except to offer bewildered grunts to her various queries about the items she heaped into his basket. Finally, as she placed a box of tea on top of the mound, he smirked down at her, and spoke: "I hope you're not attempting to curry favour so I'll give up the bubbly."
"Never gave it a second thought," she fibbed with a cheeky grin. Honestly, she just wanted to make it up to him for being rude, but she had hoped, maybe…
He pulled the bottle out of the basket to peer at it. "It's proper British Fizz, you know."
"Oooh, lovely! Somethin' a bit posh. Don't know w'at it's doin' here, in a Tesco on the flippin' estate. Guess they reckoned people wouldn't be thinkin' about the cost so much when they're bringin' in the New Year."
"Yeah, gonna cost me an arm and a leg, this is."
"The price don't matter to me. Not tonight. I'd be happy to take it off your hands if you're having second thoughts…"
"Ahem… nope." He placed it back into the shopping basket. "Worth every penny, this. I have plans for this fizz."
"Yeah," Rose muttered, rolling her eyes, "so did I."
They headed toward the checkout each lost in their own thoughts. "So, what's your story, then?" he asked after a few moments. "Tell me, what makes you so deserving of this posh beverage on New Year's Eve?"
Rose shrugged, her problems seeming rather small and distant, now.
"C'mon then. You said earlier, you'd had a rough night of it. So?"
"You sure you wanna hear me rattle on? It's pathetic, really."
"I've been listenin' to you rattle on non-stop for the las' twenty minutes, anyway. So, I'm all ears… and no jokes about these silly things hangin' off the side of me head."
"I would never! 'Sides, there's nothin' wrong wi' them. They suit you."
He looked unconvinced by her compliment. "Well… out with it then," he insisted, changing the subject back to Rose as he began to load his groceries onto the checkout counter. "I'm waitin' on this great tale of woe."
"Alright, you asked for it."
"Yes, I did!"
"Okay, so, earlier tonight, I found my tosser of a boyfriend (ex-boyfriend now, by the way, and good bloody riddance!) out back of the pub, gettin' a leg-over with one of the servers. It was humiliatin'. And you better believe I told him what he could do with his bloody– Well anyway, I ended up slappin' him (and fuck that felt good!) and walked out. Thought about goin' to a few other pubs, but I decided I really just wanted to go home, watch the countdown on the New Year's Eve Fireworks programme, an' get hammered in peace. I s'pose I jus' wanted the wine to make me feel a bit more… special.
"And that's about it. See? Pathetic. Don't say I didn't warn you." She wagged her finger at him.
"Oi, not pathetic at all, Miss, erm… Blimey, I don't even know your name."
"Since we're neighbors now, I s'pose I should probably tell ya, yeah? It's Rose… Rose Tyler."
"Nice to meet you, Rose. I'm John Smith," he returned.
"John Smith? That's it? Pull the other one! John Smith?"
His shoulders stiffened. "Well, if you don't like it, you can jus'–"
"Nah, nah, nah, it's fine. It's nice and, erm… straightforward." Rose couldn't help the smile that blossomed over her face at his sudden offence. "It's jus' I think from now on you'll always be the Doctor to me."
"Fine..." he huffed, shaking his head at her as he paid for his order and gathered his bags. "Anyroad, gettin' back to your tale: it sounds to me like you're well shot of that stupid ape boyfriend of yours."
"Ex-boyfriend. And yeah, Jimmy's a right arsehole. To be honest, I don't really feel all that upset about it. Thought I'd be gutted, yeah? But all I can think is that it's no great loss. Reckon it was a long time comin'; shoulda dumped him ages ago."
They walked out the doors of the Tesco and headed in the direction of Powell Estate.
She shrugged, adding, "I'm mostly just pissed off that he ruined my plans for New Year's."
"Yeah, rightly so!"
They walked in slightly awkward silence for a short time before Rose braved asking the enigmatic Doctor more about himself. "So… you're a medical doctor, then?"
"Yup. Was a doctor in the military for years. Resigned my commission 'bout a year back. Figured I'd seen enough…"
Rose glanced up at him, frowning concern at the tenson etched on his face again. "What are your plans now?" she asked, hoping to take him out of whatever unspoken horrors lingered in his past.
"I've always planned to start my own practice, me. Thought I could open one right here on the Estate."
"Blimey, mate, it's a war zone here too, sometimes."
He grunted. "All the more reason you need a doctor."
"Can't argue wi' that. We haven't had a doctor 'ere for years. The old one jus' cleared off one day, no notice. He was just gone. His clinic is still there, though, between the chemist and the launderette. No one's let it. Bet it's a bargain!"
"You think?" He offered her a smug smile. "Already made arrangements, me."
"But that's brilliant!" Rose cheered, grabbing his arm and bouncing up and down. "When do you take possession?"
"Beginnin' o' next week," he said as they strolled into the Powell Estate quad. "But it'll be a bit before I can get everything set up properly. Plus, I have my flat to sort out. Boxes everywhere."
"Don't ya have some mates to help ya out?"
"Nope. There's no one else. Jus' me." His words were blunt, his voice rough with emotion.
Rose watched his Adam's apple bob heavily and grabbed onto his hand. "W'at happened? Doctor?"
He swallowed again and looked down at their joined hands.
Rose gripped a little tighter, but he wriggled his hand free of hers, leaving behind an aching emptiness deep in her heart. She ducked her head. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry. I jus'… Oh, never mind."
The strained silence returned for another minute or so as they walked, then he sighed. "Rose, war changes a person. I came back a very different man. I had plans, me. Was goin' to start a practice as soon as I resigned my commission. Even had a place all set to go in my hometown. But I couldn't make a go of it. Too much baggage. I haven't been able to keep a steady job, all this time. And I lost people, good people, because they couldn't take any more of my shit. My mates, my fiancée. One way or another, they're all gone, and I can't say I blame 'em. That's who I am, now. I drive everyone away from me."
Rose's heart swelled with compassion. "There's me…"
They paused as they approached the entranceway to Rose's building, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes at her and offering a guarded smile. "Yeah, you I can't seem to get rid of."
"I'm just too good." She beamed at him, poking her tongue between her teeth again. This time, she noted, his eyes drifted to her mouth.
"No, you're jus' too drunk."
"Uggghh," she groaned, "I wish. I never got a bottle from the shop, after all."
Grumbling deep in his throat, he dug in his shopping bag and extracted the bottle of sparkling wine. "There you go. Happy New Year. Take this and go home and celebrate your freedom from that twat. Now, go on, forget me, Rose Tyler." He pressed the bottle into her hand and turned away, striding off toward the building opposite hers.
Rose watched him go, feeling rather lost. Numbly, she headed toward the staircase of her building, the bottle dangling from her fingers. She had her prize, but somehow it seemed a hollow victory.
She stopped and turned back. The Doctor was halfway across the quad, his figure illuminated by the dim sparkle of fairy lights strung from the balconies above. "Wait, Doctor," she blurted. When he paused, she wasted no time rushing forward to meet him.
"Thought I told you to forget me," he growled.
She was undeterred. "I'm not havin' you sittin' up in that empty flat by yourself." Impulsively, she perched up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Come to mine. Mum won't be home 'til tomorrow anyway, and I think we both deserve this bottle of bubbly, wouldn't ya say? Better with two, yeah."
"Erm…" He gazed down at her, his gruffness replaced with a sad, gentle smile that teased at the corners of his mouth.
"I'm not on the pull or anything," she insisted… a little too forcefully. "Blimey!" she laughed, her cheeks burning. "I mean we jus' met…"
He chuckled too. "And you were trying to steal my bubbly. You're weren't off to the best start, anyway, to be honest."
"Oi!" She grabbed him by his sleeve and tugged him toward her building. "Wait! Hold on," she paused a few seconds later, sniffing the air, "do you smell chips?"
"Yeah. Yeah."
"Morrison's must still be open! I want chips!"
"Me too."
"And since you brought the bottle, the chips are on me! You're in for a treat! Best chips on the planet, Morrison's, an' they're right here on the estate. C'mon!"
"All right! Chips it is! And if we're still hungry later, you can't go wrong wi' beans-on-toast." They both laughed as he held up his bag of shopping. Then he clasped Rose's hand in his, the gesture warming her to the core. "Lead the way!"
As they walked towards the chippy, Rose leaned her head against John Smith's shoulder and gave his hand a little squeeze. Her evening, which had started out quite wretched, had completely turned around, and was now looking more promising than she could ever have imagined. Despite his wine-hogging tendencies, she rather thought she was going to enjoy being the Doctor's neighbour.
"You know what, Doctor," she grinned up at him, "I bet we're going to have a really great year!"
