'You know,' the Doctor said softly as Rose woke, 'the TARDIS always makes sure to land in sunny England. I don't think I've seen a proper English shower in ages.'

Rose glared against the gray sunlight and misty draughts filling the room. 'Yeah, I didn't miss it.'

The Doctor chuckled. 'This is what poets wrote whole sonnets about!' he whispered excitedly. 'Had there not been that fire in Alexandria, I say, there'd be more poems of rain than there are of women.'

Rose harrumphed. 'Didn't you start the fire of Alexandria?'

He looked down at her. 'I'm being serious, Rose. Not everyone has a woman to write about but rain? Once upon a time, even Atacama had that.'

She hummed and snuggled closer into his side. 'You avoided the question.'

'It's a Fixed Point,' he replied easily, threading his fingers through her hair. 'Nothing to do but save a couple of librarians.'

Rose snorted. 'You're telling me you didn't even try to save a couple scrolls?'

The Doctor smirked. 'Why do you think you have the Epic of Gilgamesh? Any of Plato's works?' He sighed. 'It's a pity the autobiography of Homer couldn't have been saved. She was brilliant. Cheeky.'

Rose raised her eyebrows. 'She?'

'The rain!' the Doctor said, gesturing to the open window. 'We're under the same downpour, Rose Tyler. Your hair is dripping. Your shoulders shake as a droplet races down your neck.' He squeezed her closer to his side, smiling as he felt her sigh against his ribs. 'We're soaked to the bone, Rose Tyler, you and I. Waterlogged and shivering, we're alone. Just you and I, barely afloat.'

Rose pressed herself against him, her blood warm beneath her skin, smelling of space dust and petrichor. She rested her cheek against his chest. 'And I wouldn't have it any other way,' she finished.

--

Rory rolled the ball over to Amy. 'How long do you reckon it's been?'

'Since they left?' Amy batted it between her hands. 'Eh, a couple hours or so, I think.' She tossed the ball back to him.

He sighed. 'You'd think for being a bloody genius he'd hurry it up already.'

Amy snickered. 'He is rather clever but he's sorta clueless about modern Earth.'

--

'Don't be ridiculous,' the Doctor scoffed, turning a crepe in the pan. ''Modern' doesn't exist. It's simply a vague concept that doesn't really mean anything.'

Craig stared at him. 'Huh?'

'I would recommend just letting him talk,' Rose whispered, cutting into her breakfast. 'Half the time he doesn't even know what he's saying.'

'Back when my ol' pal Taishi invented the wheel for his farm, his whole village thought it was the greatest thing ever. They called it modern.'

'I'm sorry,' Craig said, 'did you say invented the wheel?'

Rose quickly shushed him.

The Doctor continued, as if unaware of the interruption, 'Time doesn't work in terms of modernity or- or whatever the opposite of modern is. Past. Ancient. Vintage. To me, millions of things are modern. The compass, for instance. Fabulous. Frank Sinatra. Most brilliant jazzist of all time. Terrible chess player. Or Henaladryl. It's the only thing that can help Rose's allergy to Wimpernel.'

Craig gave Rose a flabbergasted look. Rose only shook her head.

'Modern is relative. Past is relative. Innovation is relative. So what makes it so important?' He slid three plates of crepes onto the table. 'Whether it lasts.'

--

'D'you remember that old rental shop next to Hargreaves?'

Amy shrugged, leaning against his side. 'Yeah. Mels and I used to swipe my aunt's credit card to rent out dirty films. And chick-flicks.'

'Ah. Okay.' Rory shook his head. 'Anyway, I remember this one film I rented out. I think it was Singin' In The Rain where it had this added feature.' He frowned at the memory. 'It was of a man, with strange hair and these thick black glasses. I thought it was the grandchild of one of the actors or something but he spoke funny. It was like he could never finish a thought.' He chuckled. 'He called himself a time-traveller. Mentioned a blue police box and angels that were quantum-locked. Strange stuff. I thought it was some dig at a new film coming out. But no, the video just stopped. 'Don't blink!' he warned. And it cut out.' Rory looked around, almost wondrously. 'I wonder if that man knew the Doctor. If he was a friend of his. He certainly seemed eccentric enough.'

Amy bumped her shoulder against his. 'Are we eccentric?'

Rory laughed. 'I dunno. How many planets make you eccentric?'

--

The rain finally let up a quarter to 11, just in time for the pub match. Craig was bustling about the apartment, throwing things into a bag. He had jeans and his jersey on with a windbreaker thrown over top.

Rose sat cross-legged on hers and the Doctor's bed— a twin size bed. Nights were snug, to say the least. The Doctor sat on the floor, a mess of wires and a traffic cone and a roll of aluminium foil around him. He was thinking too quickly for Rose to follow any of his thoughts. Just vague blueprints and calculations that faded in and out of the ether.

Rose knew whatever the Doctor was making was meant to communicate with the TARDIS— she didn't understand why he didn't just ring the TARDIS from her mobile.

'Hey, Aiden, everything all right?' Craig fumbled about the flat, his keys jingling in his pockets every time he moved. 'What do you mean Cam isn't coming?' He sighed. 'Well, where's Josh, then?' He sighed again. 'Have you asked any of the others if they've got brothers or cousins or anything? No, no, Mark left. Well, hold on.' His keys jingled like dissonant bells as he approached their door.

The Doctor was unaware when Craig peered around the edge of the door. He was also unaware of the flabbergasted look Craig gave him as he took in his mess. But he was a quick study because he composed himself, pulled his mobile away from his face, and said, 'Doctor?'

Rose kicked the Doctor in the back. Not roughly, just enough to get him to pay attention. He snapped up. 'Yes?'

'Do you know how to play football?'

He froze. 'Er—' he looked at Rose— 'I know a lot of footballers?'

Craig waved a hand. 'Yes, yes, but do you know how to play?' Then, into his mobile, 'Yeah, hold on.' To the Doctor, 'Do you know how to play or not, mate?'

The Doctor nodded. 'Yes?'

Craig sighed. 'Thank God. Yeah, yeah, all right. I've got someone. Yeah, see you in twenty.' He laughed and hung up. 'You've saved my life,' he said and clapped the Doctor on the shoulder. 'Spare kit's in the bottom drawer.' He looked around, seemingly at a loss in the mess around him.

'How far is the match?' Rose asked and guided him out of the room.

'Seven minutes. It's just down the road.'

Rose nodded. 'Perfect. We'll be ready in ten. There's someone at the door, by the way.' She shut the door and pulled the kit out of the drawer.

'Can I play football?' the Doctor asked, gingerly standing up amidst his mess.

'You can do anything,' Rose replied, tossing him the blue jersey.

'Yes, but I don't think this body is as nimble as the last one.' He set to work on unbuttoning his shirt, giving her a 'see?' look when his fingers fumbled.

Rose rolled her eyes and made quick work of his clothes. 'It'll be fun,' she said lightly. 'We've got to blend in anyhow.' She looked pointedly up at the ceiling then at the gadgets and gizmos surrounding them. 'What's all this for again?' She guided his head and arms through the jersey.

'I'm not quite sure,' he admitted. 'I'm just doing whatever my hands tell me to. By the way, brilliant thought earlier. Where's your mobile?'

'Let me do that. You finish getting ready.' She reached into her coat and rang the TARDIS.

'Rory?' she asked as the call connected. 'Amy?'

--

Rose's voice filled the room. They froze, waiting for another hologram to appear, when she spoke again, 'Rory? Amy? Are you there? It's Rose.'

'Er, hullo?' Rory called out.

'Oh, brilliant! Is that Rory?' The Doctor. 'Where's Amy? Has she left the console room? I can't hear her.'

Amy scowled. 'No, I haven't left and I can listen, y'know.'

'I never said you couldn't, Pond. How are the two of you faring? Is the TARDIS all right?' A note of anxiety finally seeped into his tone.

'Yes, yes,' Rory said. 'We're all right. The TARDIS is flying smoother than when you pilot it.'

'Her,' both Rose and the Doctor corrected automatically.

Amy and Rory rolled their eyes. 'What are you two doing?' Amy asked. 'Don't tell me you've gone and swanned off to have a date.'

Faintly, they could hear the Doctor whisper, 'What does she mean 'swanned off'?' Rose whispered back, too faintly to be heard.

'What— no!' the Doctor cried. 'If we wanted to do that, we would've left you at home! Why would we want to be stuck on Earth without the TARDIS? That doesn't sound like a date. That sounds like torture!'

'Oh-kay, Doctor, I think it's time for us to go. Amy, Rory, just pick up the telephone on the console if you ever need to ring us again. The TARDIS knows to route the call to me. C'mon, Doctor, you can't wear boots to a match.'

'A match?' Rory piped up. 'The two of you are going to a football match?'

'Premier League!' the Doctor told him proudly. 'I'm playing!'

Rory's mouth fell open. 'What? You're joking!' He looked at Amy. 'They've gotta be joking.'

'It's pub league, Rory,' Rose told him gently. 'Our flatmate needed an extra player so the Doctor volunteered himself. Nothing serious.'

'Flatmate?' Amy asked. 'That sounds an awful lot like swanning off to me.' She placed her hands on her hips and frowned at the console, as if they could see her.

'We'll take you to a Cup someday, Rory,' Rose promised. 'And we're not swanning off! This is part of our investigation!'

'Mmhm.'

'Bye, now!'

'Bye!' Amy and Rory said in unison. There was a click as Rose hung up.

Amy dropped her arms. 'They're swanning off.'

'The Doctor's playing football,' Rory said. 'Never thought I'd see the day.'

Amy snorted and mimicked his gangly walk.

--

The ground was damp as they followed Craig and Sophie to a group of red and blue clothed men. The Doctor picked at his kit, mumbling about the fabric and why was it so flimsy and slippery?

'What are you gonna do while I play?' the Doctor asked whilst tugging on his socks.

'Watch you, of course.'

The Doctor stopped and stared at her. 'Eh?'

Rose rolled her eyes. 'Y'know. Cheer you on. Go, Doctor!' She pumped her fist in the air for good measure.

The Doctor's lips twisted in a wry smile. 'Of course. Sorry, silly of me to think you wouldn't. Do you know how long this lasts?'

'Usually ninety minutes, I think. Two halves and a break between.' She glanced at the group where Craig was looking intently at them. 'You probably ought to go join them.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Okay. Got it. Cool.' He hopped on his feet. 'Playing football. Yeah. I'm a bloke.' He cleared his throat and looked down at her. 'Can I have a good luck kiss?'

Rose grinned. 'Of course.' She stood on her tip-toes and pecked his cheek. 'Go on, Doctor. It's just a game.'

Uneasily, he nodded again and jogged over to join the group.

Rose made her way to the sidelines where she stood next to Sophie. 'Hi, again,' she said.

Sophie smiled. She was quite beautiful, Rose noticed. She had a hopeful sort of spark in her eye and a calming aura. 'Hi! Now, I must be honest,' she lowered her voice, 'these things can be unbearable at times. I have crisps in my bag and a deck of cards if it ever gets dull.'

Rose laughed. 'Oh, brilliant. I've never actually been to a football match before. Never really watched one either.'

Sophie nodded. 'Yeah, me neither. My dad was always more of a rugby sorta bloke so we never really had it on the telly.'

Rose nodded. 'So… you're here for Craig?'

Sophie smiled bashfully. 'Yeah… I enjoy watching him play. It makes him happy. Oh, look! They're starting!'

Instantly, Rose's eyes tracked the Doctor's familiar lanky frame. He stumbled over his feet, out-of-place in the spare cleats Craig had. His eyes darted around, tracking the other players and the ball. His eyes lighted as he found an opening, running forward to intercept a ball. Rose cheered as he gained possession and started off towards their goal. One swift kick had the ball hurtling into the net. The Doctor spun around, arms held high, his eyes immediately seeking her out. 'Yeah!' he whooped.

'Go, Doctor!' she cried.

The Doctor gained confidence after that. While this new body was clumsier and willowier than his previous ones, he was, without a doubt, a stellar football player. Every time he had the ball, it'd end up in the net.

A crowd had gathered near the end of the match and a chant arose, 'Doc-tor! Doc-tor! Doc-tor!' A smile split across his face as he flipped in the air, effectively kicking the ball straight into the goal.

The crowd exploded, cheering wildly. The Doctor landed on his feet, arms spread wide. 'Who da man?' he exclaimed.

Rose laughed, clapping so hard her hands hurt.

'Well, go on, then!' Sophie urged. 'Go congratulate him!'

Rose shook her head, watching as his teammates surrounded him, lifting him into the air. Her smile fell as she saw the man off to the side, his grin of victory a little too stiff, his laugh a little too loud.

--

Presently, the Doctor was torn between wanting to hide away with Rose in their room and staying in the lounge to observe Craig and Sophie. On one hand, he could finish the satellite-that-wasn't-really-a-satellite but on the other, Craig and Sophie made for a very interesting study.

They weren't being very sly with their longing looks, the way Craig would find excuses to brush his hand against her arm, or the way Sophie would laugh at whatever Craig said, even if it wasn't funny.

The Doctor nudged Rose to see if she noticed the same things he did. She only smiled slightly, the corner of her mouth quirking in acknowledgement.

He wasn't sure how Rose's psychic abilities worked. He wasn't sure if she knew either. Still, he focused his thought and willed her to how in the way she always seemed to know: Can we leave?

She blinked and glanced at Craig and Sophie. She sighed and set her tea down. With an exaggerated yawn and stretch, she stood. 'Well, it's rather late and all of today's activities have got me tired.' She looked the Doctor, 'I'm gonna head to bed, okay?'

The Doctor rose. 'I agree.' Then, to Craig and Sophie, 'Good night. It was lovely meeting you, Sophie.'

She smiled. 'Same for you, Doctor, and Rose. I suppose I ought to be heading out as well.' Both she and Craig looked a little downcast at her words.

'Oh, no,' Rose hurried to say. 'Don't mind us. You can stay for longer, Sophie. I'm sure Craig would enjoy your company.'

Instantly, his cheeks went scarlet. 'No, no. I mean, unless you want to stay but you're free to go. You don't have to stay for me.'

She looked unsure. 'I… I think I'll head out. Thanks though.'

'Oh. Okay.'

'Bye, Craig.'

'Bye, Soph.'

The regret in the room was palpable.

Craig looked into his bottle as she walked out. The Doctor and Rose stood in front of him.

'Do you need the shower?' the Doctor asked. He fiddled with his thumbs. 'I think I still have a bit of grass in my hair and—'

Craig waved a hand. 'Go ahead, mate.'

'Okay, well, good night then.' Awkwardly, Rose pat his arm. 'Good night, then.'

Craig nodded. 'Good night.'

Rose trailed after the Doctor, sparing a glance over her shoulder at Craig. He still sat on the sofa, staring ahead. He took a sip of his beer.

Aboard the TARDIS, there was something so wonderfully, not domestic, but routine about getting ready for bed.

While the Doctor took his shower, Rose got ready for bed. They spent near an hour in their bathroom together, simply talking amidst the white noise of the shower. The Doctor didn't believe in taking warm showers ('Baths are supposed to be hot, Rose Tyler. meant to soothe and relax. Showers are meant to be cold, to help circulate blood and strengthen immunity.') so it never got steamy or overly warm during their time together. It was relaxing, to decompress and process the day's events. Or if they hadn't run for their lives or faced a crisis, the Doctor would fill the room with his prattling and theories, not that Rose minded.

Once he rinsed all the forgotten suds out and finished getting ready, they would make their way to bed. The arrangement happened naturally, it seemed. After she woke from her coma, and officially became a member of the TARDIS (again), she found her way into his room, the same way she used to. Not that the Doctor had bothered to use his room ever since their old days together. His bedroom and all rituals connected to it, belonged solely to Rose Marion Tyler.

Softly, curled up together, the Doctor would recount his tales or continue his rambling. He talked an awful lot, no matter what body. But Rose didn't mind. It was to the sound of his voice and the double beat of his hearts that she always fell asleep. And while she was sleeping, the Doctor would lay there, enjoying and revelling in having her with him once more until he could hardly contain himself any longer. He never strayed from their room, though. He kept quietly to his thinking and tinkering while she slept only a few metres away.

Now, all that routine was thrown off. The Doctor frowned distastefully at the scant selection of soap in Craig's possession. He hardly believed that 3-in-1 soap could clean him adequately. And blimey, it smelt awful.

'I miss my soap,' he said, entering their temporary room.

'I know, dear,' Rose answered. 'Do you want to go shopping tomorrow?'

The Doctor sighed, running a hand through his hair. 'I doubt they have the proper kind.' He shuddered. 'I was reading the ingredients in his 'soap'. Poor Craig. He doesn't even realize all he's putting on his body.'

Rose sighed and rose from the bed. 'Well, I'm going to wash. I'll be back in a jiff.'

His hand darted out catching her wrist. 'Rose,' he said seriously. 'Don't use the soap.'

She cracked a smile. 'I won't,' she promised.

It was difficult trying to clean the makeup off her face with only water. It was only when she had to live outside the TARDIS when she realized, truly, how much the old girl looked after them. Their soap never ran out, the water was always the perfect temperature, a warm, fluffy towel was always available to dry her face off with. And her clothes! She never had to do washing or anything. She's gone days wearing the same outfit, whether it's due to her forgetting to change, so caught up in an adventure, or simply not being able to. But all the day's grime of wearing the same trousers, shirt, and overcoat had finally got to her. It was a wonder how the Doctor did it all the time.

'Whether or not we purchase soap, we should go shopping tomorrow,' Rose said, throwing her coat over the Doctor's. 'I would like some new clothes, if we're stuck here indefinitely.'

The Doctor frowned. 'New clothes? You look fine.'

'When we're facing imminent death, my clothes are the last thing on my mind. But we're kinda stuck here and I've been wearing the same thing for the past two days.'

Abruptly, the Doctor straightened and began unbuttoning his shirt. When he finished, he held it out to her.

She raised an eyebrow.

'I'm a Time Lord,' he explained. 'I don't sweat as much as you do so I reckon it's a bit cleaner than what you have on. And you like wearing my clothes around the TARDIS.'

'You're shirtless,' she said.

'I don't mind,' he said. 'It's just a body.'

'Thank you,' she said, and began changing.

It was true, she did enjoy wearing his old clothes around the TARDIS. On slow days, they would find themselves in the wardrobe and the Doctor would regale her with all his old outfits. An old bowtie, a hat, he was always fond of overcoats and suits.

The faint, familiar smell of the TARDIS' washing soap was a comfort.

Feeling better, she sat against the pillows, watching the Doctor as he worked from the floor. Equations and blueprints flitted through his brain, alongside the general worrisome thought about the Ponds. He had so much to fix and simultaneously, it felt like he had no time and all the time in the world to figure them out. But what else was new.