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How easy it was to fall into the old routine – dance around one another, flirt openly and do nothing about it. They made a point of only arranging to see one another two or three times a week, but met "accidentally" in Torchwood most days when Rose was in the office and the sort-of-Doctor with the TARDIS, who was now growing steadily and emanating a stronger golden glow. An entire six weeks went past in this fashion, and they managed to get by without fighting too much. There was the odd blow up, of course, but it normally ended with one of them storming out and returning with bleeding knuckles an hour or so later (several holes in the walls had been filled in during this time). They had mutely agreed that the romance side of their relationship could wait until they were ready… Much to their mutual disgust.
Christmas was fast approaching, and with only days to go the sort-of-Doctor was cornered by Jackie and her inquisition about the presents he had purchased for Rose 'so she didn't buy doublers'. He had stared into the woman's intense face with paling complexion, gabbling words he knew didn't exist in any kind of coherent language. Having been so wrapped up in their little friendship dance and growing the TARDIS, any thoughts of pointless gifts had been very far from his mind. It took around fifteen minutes and thirty three seconds of him rocking miserably in a corner to come up with some things she might like. Casting his mind back, he thought about adventures they had experienced together, and with a grin compiled a quick, comprehensive list of presents she would understand.
Firstly, a copy of "Reasons to be Cheerful", a compilation of the greatest hits of Ian Dury and the Blockheads (her giggle of, "You're a punk!" echoed pleasantly in his ears as he reminisced). A pair of her own Converse hi-tops – he knew she'd always wanted them – they would be pink, of course. Something to do with Queen Victoria; perhaps a biography of her life. Other gifts tumbled into his head, and soon he had a list of four or five to surprise her with, much to his glee. It irked him that he would still have to use the Torchwood company card, but try as he might, Pete refused to hire him as a Torchwood employee until he had some understanding of this universe (something which, he had to admit, made sense). The very thought of actually having to shop turned his stomach, but this was for Rose. He had saved worlds, defeated enemies, travelled the universe; surely shopping for a human woman couldn't be that hard?
Rose approached the door cautiously, eyeing the cracked window pane and chipped paint with trepidation. It had taken her weeks to track down this address, and she still wasn't sure if the item in question was going to prove to be the one she was after. Her friend Mandy sat in the car a little way away in full view of the house, mobile phone at the ready if anything should go wrong. Surely it wouldn't, though? It was just a simple case of seeing a man about a coat. Nothing sleazy there. Nothing about this situation screamed danger at all… Not to the woman who had saved worlds, defeated enemies, travelled the universe… Not at all.
The door soon opened to reveal a tall, thin man with pale brown hair and thick black glasses. He smiled widely at Rose; he was quite disarming, and reminded her uncomfortably of the person this whole venture was for.
"Mrs Smith, I take it?" he queried, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and crossing his arms, appraising her with appreciative eyes. Rose gave a weak smile and nodded jerkily.
"That's me. Mrs Smith, wife to Mr Smith."
"I'm George. You're here about the coat, yes?"
"That's right."
"Present for Mr Smith?"
"Yep." She popped the 'p' without thinking about it – she had been out of that copycat habit for quite some time, and the recurrence amused her. George seemed to realise he wouldn't be getting much more out of her and laughed lightly, moving back from the door and motioning for her to follow. Rose glanced back at the car and gave Mandy an almost imperceptible nod before entering the bright, clean hallway. The front door remained open and George disappeared into a side room, emerging quickly with a large cardboard box in his arms. Holding it out to Rose, he gave her an encouraging half smile.
"You can check it before you take it, just to make sure it's the one you're looking for. I'm not sure why my dad got a hold of it but it's of no use to me; the only thing I know about it is what he told me. Janis Joplin gave him it."
Rose took the box from his arms and set it on the small table next to her. It was with great anticipation she opened the flaps of the box and dug through a plethora of polystyrene balls until the tips of her fingers hit the soft fabric underneath. With a grunt of effort she yanked the heavy coat from the box, scattering polystyrene everywhere and grinning as the cinnamon coloured suede lapels came into view. She had to hold her arms above her head to stop it pooling on the floor while she inspected it, but was soon satisfied that it was the garment she had been seeking.
A few silent moments passed as she carefully folded it and replaced it snugly within its' container, sweeping up the balls from the floor and tossing them back in on top to keep it protected. Turning to George, she yanked her purse out of her pocket and gave an elated grin.
"Okay, how much? Money no object," she queried, already unzipping her purse and grasping for fistfuls of cash. George shook his head hurriedly, waving his hands to stop her.
"No, no, you don't have to pay for it."
"What? Yeah, I kind of do, mate. If you're looking for payment other than money then you can f-"
"Nope, don't need that either. Janis gave it to my dad and said that someone would come looking for it one day. That day came and there you go, your coat."
He seemed insulted to the core that she suspected him to have ulterior motives. Rose was half afraid he would take the precious cargo from her again, but luckily he simply eyed her frostily and showed her to the door.
"Mrs Smith."
The sort-of-Doctor gazed proudly down at his contribution to the pile of gifts underneath the very non-violent Christmas tree. They were haphazardly wrapped, he had to admit – the sticky tape had somewhat embarrassingly gotten the better of him, and even worse – it showed. He knew that the recipients of the gifts would appreciate the time and effort he had put in – he'd even tied TARDIS blue ribbons around them (although this was partly to hide the ripped paper and clumps of stubborn tape). He'd asked for Rose's help with regards to gifts for the rest of the Tyler family, and she had happily supplied him with a list of ideas. He felt he should show some kind of gratitude to them for allowing him to live in their guest bedroom for so long – a 'few days' seemed to be turning into a few months.
Once the TARDIS was properly grown, however, he'd be out of here with a tip of his cap and a quick wave. Her growth rate was still steady, and she was noticeably growing now. In a few more months he would have to stop Rose visiting until the desktop theme had developed; no point in melting her mind, after all.
A childish excitement rose in him as he studied the pile, wondering which ones (if any) were for him, and what they might contain. The sort-of-Doctor glanced right and left before dropping to his knees and grabbing the nearest parcel, lifting it to his ear and shaking it. Four more gifts followed this before he heard an almost concealed snort behind him. He turned slowly, parcel still held to his ear guiltily. Rose sat on the arm of the couch, her eyebrow raised in amusement.
"You, John, are nothing but a big kid."
The sort-of-Doctor didn't like being called John, and Rose so very rarely called him anything at all that this utterance jarred and made him wrinkle his nose. He tossed the gift aside and stood up, brushing off his jeans and he did so. Rose snorted again, shaking her head as if to clear it.
"I still can't get over the sight of you in jeans and a t-shirt. It looks so weird! You've got, like, actual arms," she laughed.
"Yeah, well, your mother was determined she was going to make me dress down 'for Christmas Eve'. As soon as she goes to bed they'll be coming off."
"Oh, is that a promise?"
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing!"
They were used to these kinds of interchanges, and always laughed about them as though they were only joking (of course, they weren't, and they both knew it). The sort-of-Doctor sat back on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table in a habit that made Jackie cringe. Rose, however, sat next to him and mimicked his relaxed posture.
"Tony's so excited. You should have seen his little face a while ago when we were putting him to bed. Eyes screwed shut and everything so he couldn't see Santa coming," chuckled the woman, languidly stretching her leg into the air and pointing her toe – the perfect gymnastic line. She settled it back down again as the sort-of-Doctor replied.
"I can imagine. I can't wait to see your face when you see what I've got you!" he grinned, weaving his fingers together and sliding them behind his head. Rose turned to him, head cocked to the side.
"Oh? And what have you got me?"
"A real, working model of a Slitheen. It has all the sound effects and smell effects and everything."
"Right. Nice."
Barely two seconds after the disgusted words left his companions mouth, the sort-of-Doctor spluttered with laughter and threw one arm around her shoulders, drawing her in for an affectionate cuddle. "You, Rose Tyler, are what you would call a right plum. As if I'd tell you what I've got you before Christmas day! That's the tradition, you know."
"You'd better be kidding about the bloody Slitheen."
"Course I am!"
They fell silent for a moment, his cheek resting comfortably on the crown of her head. It still seemed strange to her to hear only one heartbeat underneath her ear. It was like a constant reminder of the man he wasn't, and yet it was also growing to be a promise of the man he was: one who could stay with her. She pondered for a moment, using her finger to trace random swirls on his navy t-shirt. He squirmed a little underneath her and she laughed.
"What's the matter?"
"You just wrote a very rude word in Gallifreyan on my tummy and it tickled," he said, his tone playfully scolding. Rose pouted and tried to remember the shape she had made, determined to make him squirm again. As she tried, she continued to talk.
"You know, there is another Christmas tradition on my Earth. Pete's World doesn't really have it, but no-one would know if we broke the rules." As the sort-of-Doctor remained expectantly silent, she went on. "You're allowed to choose one present to open on Christmas Eve."
"Really? Brilliant! Let's do it!"
He leapt from the couch and she went flying sideways and onto the floor, landing painfully on her back. The sort-of-Doctor didn't seem to hear her grunt of pain as he skidded down in front of the tree; he grabbed for parcel after parcel to see which ones had his name on and which one he might want to open. Rose crawled over and deposited herself next to him, stilling his frantic hands with her own.
"I've got one for you that isn't under there – I couldn't get enough wrapping paper for it. I got mum to put it up in your room. Wanna go up and see it?"
The look in her eyes, the tone of her voice – the sort-of-Doctor gulped: he wasn't quite sure what she was angling at. Had she really got him a present that she couldn't wrap? Or could she possibly be talking about – about herself? He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously as he considered the options – of course he was going to go upstairs with her. He was the one in the horror film that went into the basement alone. He could never resist the temptation to go looking for trouble, and this was yet another one of those times. Would he never learn?
"Alright, close your eyes," Rose murmured, closing his bedroom door softly behind her. The sort-of-Doctor did as he was bid, recognising the amount of faith he put in her: he would never willingly close his eyes for anything as it could so easily end in death, destruction or forced pear eating. A pair of gentle hands rested on his shoulders and he was guided deftly forwards towards the middle of the room. His heart thundered in his chest like a steam train – he half expected her to comment on how loud it was. Suddenly, he was bereft of her touch and the sound and smell of cardboard reached him. That confused him slightly, but he resisted the urge to open his eyes. Maybe she had some weird kink he'd never guessed about?
Something was withdrawn from a box and another, even more familiar smell hit his nostrils: suede, wool and silk. That confused him even more. How could he be smelling that? Footsteps approached and something heavy was settled on his shoulders. A familiar weight, warm and comforting around his body. He heard Rose still a few feet away and her exhale was almost painful to listen to. She instructed him to open his eyes, but he couldn't. He knew what this was.
"Where did you get this?" he queried, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. A smile crept into Rose's voice.
"Janis Joplin left it with some guy, said someone would come for it one day. Thought you might like-"
"Even after all this time, when I've done my best to be the one you want, it's still him."
A heavy silence fell and the sort-of-Doctor breathed erratically through his nose, curling his fingers into fists then stretching them out again, like a cat extending its claws. He fought the urge to throw the treacherous coat off and run from the room – running had always been his thing, after all. He wasn't even angry this time – well, he was, but in a different way. Angry at himself for daring to believe it might actually end up being him she wanted; that she could be satisfied with the human version (albeit with an unfortunate attitude and the occasional hip wiggle). Over and above, bubbling rejection and defeat simmered in the pit of his stomach. He could feel Rose's horror emanating off her in agonising waves. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper.
"I thought you would like it."
"Well, you thought wrong, didn't you? I thought you'd like me but hey, what do I know?"
The sort-of-Doctor opened his eyes at that, shrugging the offending coat off and laying it carefully across his bed. Rose shook her head in disbelief – she couldn't understand where this had come from. She had been trying to show him how she felt – that she was starting to accept him! How dare he throw it in her face?
"Can't you see that I was trying to – that I – it's not – I can't stand this anymore!" she screeched, her voice rising progressively with every failed sentence. With an almost animalistic snarl she whirled from the room, slamming the door loudly in her wake.