"Roooose," says the Doctor, frowning. "I used to be good at this."
The Doctor is sitting in his mother's living room, surrounded by a nest of wrapping paper and frowning at an X-Box controller as though it's just stolen his favorite candy. Next to him, munching on his favorite candy, is Rose - purple jelly baby worrying between her teeth, a bit of white powder dusting the corner of her mouth.
His previous body had been quite good at video games, to the point where he'd once used it to save her life. This one, however, is apparently having trouble with arcade Tetris.
And it really isn't fair, when he pouts. All his other expressions had analogues from his old face; things she had a prepared set of reactions for. But not this. This Doctor had a way of jutting his lower lip out and making a soft, high-pitched huff whenever something didn't go his way.
He did it again.
Rose's fingernails sank into the leather sofa.
The Doctor's fingers slid clumsily over the controller; he had long, slim hands, and apparently he hadn't worked out control of them yet. It was a shame, because they looked like such clever hands.
Her eyes dart away. She catches sight of a leather jacket on a peg near the door, and flushes quietly with shame. Is this even…right?
It's still him; she knows that now. When he'd pulled her aside after dinner the night before, his voice low and fervent, she'd put aside any thoughts to the contrary. His head bent low, his hands gripping her elbows, he told her the truth, as far as she understood - the Daleks, and the golden light, and the song that chased them away.
Eyes, brown like hers. A lilting voice, with her accent. It does things to a girl, sits warm in her heart when she thinks of being the only thing in his mind as he re-makes himself.
And the hair. She can already tell that the hair is going to drive her mad.
The Doctor gives a triumphant "HA!" and turns to grin, full stop, at Rose, grabbing her hand. He's won, and in response his tongue touches the roof of his mouth and he makes a soft, happy noise that reaches right into Rose's stomach, tugging on the knots there.
Right. New Doctor, new steps to the dance.
New Rose.
The Doctor squeaks when she climbs on his lap, but not for long, her hands sliding up into his mad hair and drawing an involuntary shudder from him. Slowly, delicately, she leans forward and offers him the sweet between her teeth. His eyes go wide for a moment, and then slightly crosseyed as he looks at what she's offering, then there's a warm, dry brush of his mouth against hers as he dives in, lets the controller clatter to the floor.
She draws another from the bag, places it against the coy quirk of her lips.
"Doctor," she says, leaning forward. The delightful whine escapes his lips again, and she rolls her hips. "Would you like a jelly baby?"