Sorry that this chapter is quite a bit shorter than the others...I'll make it up to you all later :p
Ooh, more foreboding...angst to come...
The Doctor bit out a yelp as he stepped into the fine spray of the large shower, turning the temperature ever cooler, steadily, as the moments went by.
As he dipped his head into the downpour, enjoying the cool pound of the water on his scalp -despite the gooseflesh that rose everywhere else- he cursed himself for being so impulsive earlier.
What was wrong with him?
It normally wasn't an issue to hold his emotions in check when around Rose. Well, not much. Okay, maybe a bit more since this new body. (Or, really, since 'Run'...)
He had come to the stage of admitting to himself that his feelings were beyong the simple platonic with this particular human. Simply from the fact that the room seemed to brighten when she was in it, and his hearts tripped stupidly with concern when she wasn't -even if she had just gone to the Galley to make them tea.
Ever since the Sycorax ship and the snow-that-wasn't-snow, he knew. Something was...different.
He seemed to need her like everybody else needed oxygen.
And lately, whatever had got into his system was steadily, drip-by-drip, turning that need into want.
Something, too, that he's admitted.
Okay. Well. Not really. Not without even saying that word, even to himself...
Holding that thought, the Doctor frowned, leaning against the tiled wall and into the spray, which warmed a little. He huddled into it, thanking the TARDIS and then remembering how he had, likewise, huddled into said companion.
Red bloomed across his cheeks. What had he been thinking?.
...Well, apparently thought hadn't been involved at all. He just...did.
And how very human was that...
Human.
Hmm.
His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton-wool, all his other senses dulled as he was filled with the touch and smell as he treated his companion like a recently favourited teddy-bear.
But he hadn't been exaggerated the bit about her smelling like strawberries. He inhaled, the scent still fresh, as if she were in here with him, and-
Something savage, primal ripped through the Doctor, sending his body (and his hormones) into panic and his head spinning. The thing that was akin to lust, desire tripped over his nerves and he shuddered.
Lust. Desire.
The Doctor turned the words over in his head, thinking about that. Wasn't something he felt at all, although...He'd felt something similar the other night, before pain took his body and made him bleed.
He brushed an open palm over his chest and mused at erect hairs met skin. Come to think of it, all his hair follicles were on edge, primed, sensing something.
Or, it dawned on him- ready for something.
Too, somewhere about his hipbones tingled and felt heavy with anticipation.
It wasn't- but he couldn't be-
Right. He had to sort this out, now.
With gritted teeth as he tried to ignore his body's demands, the Doctor, white-knuckled, turned off the spray and stormed out the bathroom. Almost forgetting his towel.
There was tension in every line of the Doctor's body as he stood at the console. His jaw was set at something and he wasn't meeting her gaze.
"So..." Rose offered dimly, treading on eggshells. "France?"
"Hm?" The Doctor's somewhat icy demanour all but vanished for a split second. He looked content, relaxed in all his layers, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.
"You said we were goin' to France...the planet, not the country." Rose echoed his earlier words as well as the smile that had come with it. But both paled against his instantaneous barriers.
"Right. Fantastic. Molte bene."
Rose winced at the clearly unenthusiastic tone colouring his voice. He noticed that, however, and his countenance darkened.
"What?" For a moment he looked dangerous. The hint of a mad spark danced at the corner of his eyes -but Rose wasn't sure if it just the reflection catching off of his glass lens.
"Nothin.'" The TARDIS powered down, her ancient heart groaning, and she silently thanked the Old Girl, making a clean exit through the doors.
The Doctor's gaze followed her, his eyes slits and something troubled in his hearts.
The Time Lord perched himself on a yellowing brick wall in an alcove, away from the happy battering and trills of the street vendors. Folding his glasses into his breast pocket he took a moment, pushing a deep, chest-filling sigh out.
His expert eye was also trained onto the whereabouts of his jeapordly-friendly companion, as she graced stall after all, entrancing all of the vendors as they sought her with a greedy eye and pockets with blood-stained gold.
Ah. There it was, again. That grip of jealousy, that best set deep in his chest clawing to get out and maul those who approached her. Silently voicing, She is Mine.
He wasn't going to deny that it wasn't bothering him. His frankly appalling behavioural issues and sudden inability to control himself was just...not tolerable. If Rose was bothered by it she hadn't voiced it, or even shown it in her body language.
Although...maybe earlier today...
He knew he was infected, but was strangely loath to cart himself off to the Infirmary to test so. It was like he didn't want to do anything about it.
His brow creased, and then rose in realization, his eyebrows two perfect triangles of consternation.
In any case, it was going to affect Rose...in whichever way he decided to go about it.
Of course, as the Time Lord confidently sauntered off to find said companion and buy her the trinket she's been admiring for the past ten minutes, he wasn't aware of just how serious his eventual decision would be.