Disclaimer: No, not yet! I'm working on it!
Summary: Rose/10.5 mush stuff.
Pairings: Duh! Rose/10.5.
Rating: K
Genre: Romance; Drama.
Chapter Summary: Yeah, I'm adding a teaser for the little bits of writing that come with the disclaimer now. Basically, this involves their first fight. That's right, it's not all babies and smiles! –Gasps–
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"Whatcha doin'?" Rose laid her hand innocently under her chin, staring over the table at him.
His tongue peeked out of his mouth for a second as he frowned at the materials on the table. "Trying to -" his hand slipped as he tried to screw a particular tricky part of metal together. "- make this – ah! –" He threw down the screwdriver in exasperation and cursed under his breath.
"Hope you don't plan on kissing me with that mouth," said Rose, with her eyebrows raised.
He glanced at her. "Sorry," he mumbled, not smiling. "But this stupid thing won't work!" he fell back in his chair and looked at the different bits of metal and tubing in front of him with deep annoyance. He stared at them, as if hoping that would make them suddenly fly up and fit together perfectly.
"A sonic screwdriver, right?" she asked. He nodded numbly. She watched him stare at the metal bits. "Can I help?"
"Of course not," he said, a bit to quickly. "You don't know how it works, do you?" he said, harsh without realising it.
"Oh no, sorry. I guess not…"
"No," he said firmly, grabbing one of the bits of metal without looking up at her. "I can do it."
"I'm only trying to help," said Rose, frowning at him. "You don't have to do everything by yourself anymore, you know. You're not alone."
"Well, maybe it'd be better if I was, at the moment! Can't you see I'm – doing this!" he said loudly, looking up at her angrily, and flapping his hands about at the table.
Rose's face fell, hurt. "Right, sorry," she mumbled sadly. She stood up. "If you want to be alone, then."
She left the room, and the Doctor fell back feeling incredibly guilty. That hadn't gone well. He hadn't meant to say any of that. Leaving the bits of screwdriver-that-won't-work on the table he wet to find her.
"Rose?" he addressed. She was in the sitting room, staring at a blank TV with her arms around her knees, her eyes wide and 'not crying'. He could hardly blame her. She was pregnant, probably hormone crazed and he had just yelled at her, for no reason. He went over and sat down next to her. "Sorry."
She glanced at him, but said nothing.
"I didn't… I mean, I shouldn't have… I'm sorry. Are you okay?" he asked. She looked at him, and he stared back, his eyes like a pleading puppy's begging forgiveness.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, still looking up at his face. "It's okay. I know." She smiled, "More hormones than me, you have... We'll be okay."
He smiled back and held her hand in his right, and rubbed her stomach with his left. "We'll be fine."
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AN: Yep. Was there a point to that, you ask? No, is the answer. And is that good? You tell me. Simply press that little purple button. Their first fight. How scary. How domestic.