A/N: Originally written for margaretmoony as part of the OSK summer ficathon on livejournal. Prompt was: "Doctor/Rose romance story told from another character's POV. Minor character telling the story gets you cookies". Enjoy!
--1. Captain Jack Harkness
They're irresistible to listen to, Jack thinks. Rose's little speech leaves him quite as spellbound as the Doctor. Standing there with her hands in his and their feet barely moving, they haven't even noticed that they've been teleported onto a 51st century Chula warship, an environment ridiculously different to the one he has just rescued them from. They even seem to have forgotten the gas-mask zombies.
He has to bite back a laugh at Rose's captain envy remark, rather pleased with the notion that he's inspired jealousy in an apparently untouchable man. The Doctor's consenting nod leaves him looking for a handkerchief to stuff in his mouth to muffle the sound of his laughter. He's not the type to sit back and be quietly amused, but this is too priceless for interruption.
There is something quite enchanting as well as hilarious about the way this 21st century girl can charm the Doctor, leave such a powerful man so very powerless. Here, displayed for only Rose to see, is a very different side to the man who deals with death so often and seems to take Volcano Day in his stride. His guard almost down and his whole demeanour changed, he is barely recognisable as the same person. Throughout the past few hours, Jack has observed a quick-thinking, fast-paced, judgmental, moral, intense man. Nothing could get under his skin.
Under her gaze, though, in the dim light of hushed streetlamps and a moon obscured by planes, he is intense in an entirely different way; all passion and jealousy and possessiveness with the strangest hint of vulnerability. Jack realises in an instant exactly how things stand between him and the girl.
He has a feeling that this is the real Doctor, all holds barred, and that he doesn't show it to just anyone. Rose is a lucky girl.
"You'll find your feet at the end of your legs, p'raps you'd care to move them."
He bites back his laughter once again, wanting to hear more. Intrigued as to what the Doctor will do next, he is more than a little surprised when the Time Lord's feet really do begin to move, echoing the rhythm of a song now unheard by all three.
However, when Jack finally comes up with a line worthy of interrupting such a scene with – they have to know they've been moved sometime, after all, and he doesn't fancy witnessing the Doctor's anger should he learn that Jack has borne witness to almost the entire conversation – he can't help but jump in.
"Actually, I quit. No one takes my frock."
A little teasing won't go amiss, either, he decides with a grin as the two spring apart and look around guiltily.
"Most people notice when they've been teleported. You two are so sweet."
Oh, yes. He's going to enjoy this.
2. Lady Cassandra O'Brian dot Delta Seventeen
She doesn't have to be inside their heads to know how they feel about one another. When he looks at her, helping her up or letting his hand linger a second longer at her waist than it should, wishing the person inside was the same as out, it's quite, quite clear. And she's not even going to get started on that kiss.
Once she possesses Chip, it's even more obvious.
They hold each other closely but gingerly, sickeningly content to do nothing but look at each other and grin for the rest of their boring lives. Everything is tentative and new with them, just like the city outside the hospital walls. She doesn't belong there, just as she doesn't belong in the hospital, watching a new couple find old ground with one another. She doesn't even belong in the ancient TARDIS, she finds, as she sits and watches the ship bathe them in timeless light. They have their own little world right here, and it's going to take a lot more than an old enemy to break through the walls.
The time machine spins on through the universe, taking her back to her past, to a better and inevitable time. Somehow she feels more human than ever, a result of becoming so embroiled in their emotions over the past day. If she concentrates, if she digs deep enough, she can still claw up the feeling that fluttered through Rose's veins every time he touched her, still hear the tone of his voice as he demanded for his little Earth companion's return: give her back to me.
He might have been able to lock away his mind, but he couldn't hide his heart.
Now, Rose leans back against the Doctor, his hands running through her hair as they fall through space, curls and clips emerging from beneath his fingers. They've made Cassandra comfortable, stabilised her, and so now, except for the occasional, worried glance, they have eyes only for each other. If she didn't disapprove so vehemently of male hairdressers, she'd think it sweet.
He steps away, done, and turns Rose around to examine her with a few cheerful nods.
"Oh, you'll do nicely," he assures her, and she smiles shyly up at him. Even in this place, time stops just for a moment.
She wants to be loved like that.
--3. Yvonne Hartman
He has so much to teach them, from alien customs to space travel to the inner workings of his ship, more than they could even think to ask. It's taking a tremendous amount of effort to simply sit here and contain her questions, stay calm and collected while a real, live alien – and not just any alien, but the Doctor himself – sits a mere metre away from her, his converse-clad feet propped up on her desk. She doesn't think any other Torchwood employee has ever got this close.
A message pings up on her computer and his feet twitch. Funny. She never imagined him in trainers. Still, there are more important things to deal with right now.
She'd thought there was something amiss, what with all the tales of a young blonde very much in love and nothing to show for it, which is why the truth makes so much more sense when it all comes out a moment later. The Torchwood institute has records of Rose Tyler going back over two hundred years, databases full of pictures of the pair together, and somehow, none of it had tallied with the "Rose Tyler" presented before her right now.
Of course, the files were all destroyed by the Bad Wolf virus months back so there's no way she can actually check, but Yvonne Hartman is not the kind of woman who forgets her basic training in a hurry. This woman simply does not fit the description of Rose Tyler that Yvonne had been given all those years ago in her very first week of Torchwood. She possesses none of the exuberant youth they were told to look out for, and she's certainly not enamoured with the Doctor.
Yvonne remembers, vividly, a photograph snapped in 1950s London by a Torchwood member posted on location to investigate alien activity and the apparent transformation of ordinary people into monsters. No-one had done anything, nothing had changed, but all of a sudden everything was right again, and the young Torchwood employee had snapped everything in sight for possible clues, getting lucky with a shot of a deceptively young-looking, pinstripe-clad man embracing a blonde teenager as though she was his entire world. It's hard to forget such an image, and it's obvious to Yvonne that the emotion emanating from it is far from being present in the couple before her.
If she's honest, then, she's not remotely surprised to find out that this isn't Rose.You travel with her mother?
It's a strange little set up that they have, she thinks, all three of them together in the TARDIS like that, and it sets off tiny alarm bells in her head. She doesn't know many human men who'd even speak to their mother-in-law for a prolonged amount of time, let alone travel through time and space with them.
And, indeed, there's no record of Jackie Tyler on these files. No part of Yvonne's training indicated a third companion, someone travelling with the Doctor and Rose who wasn't present at the creation of Torchwood. A mother had been mentioned, probably, but certainly not in the capacity that she had explained away earlier.
They obviously didn't travel with Jackie Tyler, so why should the Doctor say so?
The alarm bells ring again, and then… it all slots into place. Thinking their organisation dangerous, perhaps, or even invasive, he had knowingly presented their team with Jackie to protect Rose. She's almost touched, except for the stray thought telling her that Rose probably wouldn't be too happy if anything happened to her mother as a result of the Doctor's actions.
Then, Ghost Shift begins and she doesn't think about much else for the rest of her life.
--4. Sir Robert MacLeish
They skid to a halt at the corner, uncertain of where to go next, what to do. There's no time to spare, no time to even i think /i . Isabelle and Rose are in danger; the kind of danger he's never experienced before and hopes never to experience again. There are moments when he can't even begin to comprehend these happenings, but he has to simply accept it and get on, or else he'll be too bogged down by confusion and denial to ever see his wife again. Every single second is precious. Every second could mean the difference between life and death for them all.
Oh, he tried to send them on; he tried to stop this. If only he'd succeeded, then perhaps they wouldn't be lingering here in the corridor, desperately hoping and wondering, wishing for more time, praying for the safety of the women they love.
There is always the possibility, though – the sly, subconscious voice that convinced him to commit treason in the first place tells him – that perhaps he wouldn't even have a wife to save if Queen Victoria had continued on to Aberdeen. Perhaps the monks would have killed them all there and then. At least this way there is some hope, however rapidly the howls of the wolf, the shots of the men and the screams of the servants make it diminish.
He locks eyes with the Doctor and, for one short moment, they are the same. Understanding flashes between them, two men united by a common purpose and cause – to save and to rescue, to repair the damage they have caused. It's not the tens of servant-girls, the stable-boys or even the household staff they are worried about, though. They have both sworn to protect the women in their charge, and there – i only /i there – is where their concern lies. A knight and a traveller, a lady and a companion, all brought together by entirely different circumstances, but in this second they are the same, all tied and bound to act by identical feelings.
Less than two seconds have passed, but they are two seconds that could have cost them their hearts.
They nod, and they run.
--5. Mickey Smith
They're on Earth, he knows that much. In a park somewhere, all grassy and green and completely unspoilt by modern technology or pollution. He finds it very difficult to believe that this is London. The year he's uncertain of. In fact, he's pretty sure that even the Doctor doesn't know, though whether that really is all "part of the fun" or he only pretends to be able to read those weird symbols on the TARDIS computer screen is debatable.
Mickey's on a hunt for water to go with their make-shift picnic, though where exactly he's going to find a drinks machine in an era full of lacy parasols and skirts wider than doorways is quite beyond him. Still, he offered, feeling a little awkward in the presence of Rose and the Doctor and more than a little curious about the new world that's just been opened up to him. They'll explore later, the Doctor promises, but Mickey's restless. If he's going to do this time-travel stuff, he wants to do it properly. He wonders if they always stop off and have picnics before saving the world.
Water – not to mention any other form of refreshment – evades him, and the distance he is prepared to wander alone in a foreign time is minimal, his feet taking him no further than a few steps into a forest with no visible end. Looks like he really will have to wait to do some adventuring… not that he's entirely sure he's unhappy about that. Excited as he is, he's not yet willing to get lost in some forest hundreds of years before he's even born.
And so he heads back, following the path to the edge of the trees once more, pausing in the shade with a hand shielding his eyes and a frown on his forehead as he scans the expanse of grass for his two friends.
It's not long before he spots them, the Doctor's brown suit standing out like a sore thumb next to all the strange, legging-type things the other men are wearing. Rose, though in full costume, is also attracting her fair share unfavourable attention due to the "improper" way she has taken her hat off, not to mention her close proximity to a member of the opposite sex in a public place. Obviously, none of the inhabitants of long-ago London find adorning the Doctor with a discarded flowery bonnet as amusing as Rose does.
Mickey leans against a tree and watches them for a while, trying to figure out exactly what they are to each other and where he stands in that equation. Oh, it's clear as day that they're madly in love, even when they're acting more restrained for his sake, though whether or not they will do anything – or have done anything – about that is a whole other question.
They sit facing each other in the grass, very much engrossed in their conversation and their hands linked in his lap. She looks as though she's pleading for something or other (probably seats at the ABBA concert they'd been on about last night. Turns out the Doctor really isn't a big fan of Swedish music. He says it's because of an unfortunate incident with Bjork, but Mickey's not sure he believes him, especially as he's pretty positive Bjork isn't from Sweden at all), a teasing sort of beg full of laughter as she bites her lip and tilts her head, endearing him to her cause. He says nothing, and she tugs on their joined hands.
After a very falsified struggle – he may have looked for all the world as though he was umming and ahhing over her question, but everyone in the vicinity could see that Rose had won before she'd even spoken – the Doctor seems to consent. Rose propels awkwardly forwards, still sitting down, and throws her arms about his neck; they fall backwards in a tangle of legs and giggles, the only people in their tiny, exclusive little world. She begins to scramble up, half-sitting on top of the rather crumpled Time Lord, but he yanks her back down and rolls her over before she has the chance.
Even from this distance, their beaming faces are evident. He pauses for breath in what appears to be a relentless tickling attack, receiving a half-hearted slap in the chest for his efforts. They're both of them laughing as though there's no tomorrow, his forehead now leaning against hers, completely caught up in the moment.
That's probably how they managed to forget that they were in one of the strictest, most prudent eras of Earth's history.
Mickey's spared having to see more or interrupt them with his lack of water by several horrified, indignant and scandalised locals brandishing newspapers and parasols as they chase the two of them right out of the park for "displays of indecency".
Rose blushes all the way back to the TARDIS. The Doctor says that he never liked the Victorians, anyway.
6. Captain Zachary Cross Flane
The Doctor's parked them on the nearest hospitable planet so that they can all have a well-deserved rest and reunion before the long trip home. The rocket can fly itself from here, so this is farewell.
Zach goes to collect Ida from the door of the TARDIS, the Doctor twitching impatiently and looking continually over at the rocket where Rose is saying her goodbyes. Zach sends Ida on her way and manages to keep the Doctor's attention on him for more than five seconds while he says thank you.
"Oh! Nah, that was nothing, I don't – "
"You saved our lives, Doctor," Zach retorts, simply.
"Not everyone," the mysterious man reminds him, seemingly as full of guilt as if he himself had killed Jefferson, Toby and Scooti.
"Couldn't be helped. You did what you could," Zach replies, assuming his role as Captain and saying the right thing even though it's blatantly obvious that he is very much full of the same guilt. "I know Ida's already thanked you, but really, Doctor… what you did for us today…"
"Oh, you did as much yourselves," he says, breezily, pushing aside the credit – quite rightly, too. None of them could have done it alone. "Besides, you kept Rose safe."
Zach laughs. "I think it was her who saved us."
The Doctor quirks an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"She'll have some stories to tell when she gets back."
"Oh, don't worry, I'll be a very willing audience." He's obviously incredibly entertained, eyes flicking perpetually and expectantly back to the rocket door. Why does it always take that girl so long to say goodbye?
"Back in the base," Zach begins, suddenly wondering if it's really a good thing to tell the Doctor this –he's not exactly had the time to think about it, especially as, not half an hour ago, he was convinced they were every one of them dead, but there's no going back now he's started. He'd want to know. "She tried to stay behind. Wouldn't believe you were dead," he adds, raising an eyebrow, obviously acknowledging that she was, miraculously, right not to. "We had to sedate her to get her strapped into the rocket."
The Doctor's frozen, the bouncing on the balls of his feet and constant eye-movements utterly ceased. "No…" Obviously having realised the implications of Zach's words, his face has flown from amused pride to horrified disbelief in a few short seconds. As if he hadn't been close enough to losing Rose already…
It's probably better not to love, if this is the sort of pain it brings, Zach thinks, remembering Rose's earlier shock as he had taken the comm. device from her, insisting that her Doctor was dead, and contrasting it with the stricken look across the face of the man before him. Still, he can't help but be touched even now by her sentiment, her insistence on staying behind and trapping herself on a destitute, forsaken planet just so that the Doctor wouldn't be alone. He's not sure he could have made that sacrifice for anyone, Captain or no.
"Maybe it was wrong of me to go against her wishes, but I've seen far too much death on this mission, Doctor. I wasn't going to lose her as well."
The Doctor's expression has not changed. He stands there, still as a statue, eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly. "But…I only had time for one trip. I only had time to collect Ida. I'd've had no way of even knowing she was up there. If…" He can't finish that sentence. Zach merely nods. After a moment, the Doctor swallows, an unexpected beam crossing his face, and Zach backs off a step, worried he's going to be hugged again. "Oh, brilliant! Brilliant! I knew I liked humans for a reason. You saved her life," he states simply, the look of horror carving a familiar path across his face for the merest of seconds before he seems to decide to focus on the fact that she's not dead, however easily she could be, and he plasters the grin back in place. "Thank you. I – "
Zach understands. The words don't seem enough, somehow. "You saved Ida," he counters, and the Doctor knows now that no thank yous are necessary. They're even.
The Doctor coughs awkwardly, gesturing in the general direction of Ida and the rocket. "Well. Yes. I suppose I did. And – not that it hasn't been fun – " Zach snorts " – but I hope I'm not required to do so again. Probably best to avoid any more oxygen deprivation for a while. No more missions into the unknown, no more blundering in – at least not for a couple of weeks." He grins. "Look after her."
"And you," Zach retorts, throwing a glance at the rocket door. "She's a good kid. Keeps her head in a crisis."
They both know he's not talking about Ida anymore.
"Always," the Doctor smiles, and retreats back inside the box, popping his head round the door before he shuts it completely. "Oh. And…if she's still in there when you get back, Captain Zachary Cross Flane of the Torchwood Archive…do tell her to hurry up, won't you?"
And with a salute, he's gone.
--7. Jake Simmonds
The lift doors clang shut and the Doctor agitatedly punches some random numbers into the panel on the side. A cool, collected female voice, far too calm in amongst all this death and destruction, announces the floor to which they are headed. No-one pays her any heed. There are more important things to dwell on today.
Perhaps, if he'd known their story beforehand, or if he hadn't been so busy trying not to be turned into a Cyberman and mourning for Ricky, Jake might have paid a little more attention to the Doctor and Rose back in his own world. As it stands, though, he'd only developed any kind of curiosity about them months later, after hearing the whole fantastic tale from Mickey and being greeted with the prospect of actually going through to their Earth.
Now, though, situated as he is in the corner of the lift, he's in the perfect position to observe all the actions of those around him and, as it happens, the Doctor and Rose are the only ones actually doing anything worth observing.
Mickey rubs his hand nervously, wincing slightly as his thumb grazes over burnt, red flesh. Jackie and Pete flick glances at each other out of the corners of their eyes, Pete uncertain and Jackie – a much friendlier and far less formal Jackie than he is used to – chewing her lip to stop the spread of a grin across her face. Everyone tries to avoid looking out of the window at the destruction of London below.
Within seconds, an awkward conversation starts up between Mickey and Pete, discussing tactics and escape strategies, wondering if their weapons could be adapted to work against the Daleks. Jake feels he should join in, but he has nothing to say that hasn't already been pointed out. Besides, he's busy watching the one man that, despite usually having more to say than anyone, is currently completely silent, staring at the ceiling in abject frustration and despair.
In amongst all this, quiet and almost unobserved, Rose tugs the Doctor's hand from his suit pocket and links it with hers, offering up a small smile as he turns to look at her, his expression unchanging.
"We'll work something out," she whispers, reassuringly. "I know we will."
But she shakes her head. "You can do it," she says simply, squeezing his hand. "I believe in you."
He looks like he's about to reply, but then he catches sight of Jake watching them and closes his mouth abruptly. Jake coughs, saved from embarrassment by the lift doors springing open again and the cool, female voice announcing their arrival. The Doctor jumps into action, quite a different man from the one who needed a hand to hold in the lift.
"Right then, straight to it! Allons-y," he exclaims, striding out of the lift, pulling Rose along with him, and the moment is over. There's no more hiding behind whispered words and steel doors, not now.
It's time to face the real world.
He's shy, Rose tells her, isn't keen on big crowds. That's why none of them have met him yet.
However, that's certainly not the impression Shireen gets when she comes to pick her friend up for a night's drinking during one of her few-and-far-between visits to Jackie's flat. In fact, he seems a little over-social, shaking her hand with great enthusiasm as they both wait for Rose to emerge from her room.
After a rather long five minutes in which he can't seem to stop moving and makes hurried, excited conversation like a wizard let loose in a muggle household for the first time, he's obviously bored of waiting and lets himself into Rose's bedroom without bothering to knock.
"How long do you take to get dressed?" he asks, muttering something about "human women" and "normally faster than this" that Shireen doesn't quite catch. Then he whistles, and she wonders if he's caught Rose naked until a familiar female voice self-consciously asks what he thinks.
"I hope all these friends you're visiting are female, Rose Tyler," he admonishes, and Shireen can practically hear the accusatory finger he's pointing. "Straight females," he adds, as an afterthought, and she hears the distinctive thwump that indicates a good-natured whack from Rose.
"That'd be telling, wouldn't it?" Rose says, her voice coming closer as they both emerge from the bedroom. She spots Shireen on the sofa. "Hello!"
"You ready?" Shireen asks, dryly, and Rose grins.
"Just about. Sure you don't want to come, Doctor?" she asks, hand on his arm. He shakes his head vigorously, and Rose gives a resigned shrug, walking towards the door with Shireen.
"Not my thing," he assures her, a high-speed ramble following about mass-marketed peanuts that Shireen can only blink at.
Rose, however, laughs, hovering at the doorway, unsure of how to say goodbye – they obviously don't spend much time apart – before bounding back to him, arms out. "I'll see you later," the Doctor tells her, squeezing her quickly then pulling back, hands still on her waist, as she nods in agreement. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He winks at Shireen and lets go of Rose, sending her on her way. She's barely made two paces before his voice turns her back.
"And I want you home by midnight," he says, waving a finger in her direction. Rose beams. "Can't risk you turning into a pumpkin, now can we? Or was that the carriage? I can never remember."
9. Peter Tyler, 1987
He can't quite comprehend the idea that someone would risk the whole of the world just so that one tiny, beautiful, insignificant little girl doesn't have to get hurt. Not even when that little girl is his daughter. Especially when that little girl is his daughter, considering she's probably inherited his uselessness and Jackie's propensity for shouting and slapping, however well she's hiding it right now.
He knows he would rip apart the universe for her, but the thought that someone else actually did …well, that's something else entirely.
That Doctor really cared about you.
And, even though he's been pretty useless for most of his life, even though he hasn't done anything and he never would have anyway, even though he's more frightened than he thought it possible to be, he's going to do something to justify that. Somehow, he's a bit old for you has become the least of his concerns regarding the Doctor. His daughter will obviously be well looked-after, even if her daddy isn't there to do it.
That, if anything, gives him the courage he needs to say goodbye.
10. Tommy Connolly
He stands on the sidelines, arm around his Gran as the Doctor runs to Rose, and he can't help but grin. Despite the lack of love in his parents' marriage, he's no stranger to observing affection, and he's sure he's never seen anyone look happier than those two as he spins her around and she buries her head in his shoulder. She loses a shoe in amongst all the spinning, but if she notices then she doesn't care.
You fought against fascism, remember? People telling you how to live, who you could be friends with, who you could fall in love with.
He's got a feeling that things are going to be a lot better from now on.
"Come on, Gran," he says, leading her along, quite unable to stop his eyes flicking continually back to her face. The Doctor is evidently the same, pulling back from Rose a little to look at her properly, tilting her head up with one hand and tracing the other, disbelieving, across features currently glowing as pink as her skirt. He kisses her quickly, once, twice, three times, and Tommy feels the grin stretch across his own face again.
He doesn't know what the Doctor did, but he's glad that he did it. Tommy and his Gran walk in comfortable silence, marvelling at the miracle that's brought everyone back and leaving the miracle-worker himself to his reunion. Tommy reckons he deserves it.
Sometimes, there's no-one to observe them, and those are the moments in which the most is to be seen.
"You have a scar on the back of your knee," the Doctor tells her across the pillows, lying on his back with his head turned to the side, "from that time you got caught in bramble bushes aged seven. Your toes hurt because I accidentally trod on your feet when we were dancing in 1797 – oi, don't you laugh at me, Rose Tyler," he adds, seeing her expression. "I distinctly remember you being the one who tripped over your own dress." Rose glares, and the Doctor continues hastily. "There's still a bruise on your left hip after you walked into a half-height door handle in Lilliput last week." And he leans over her to trace the line of it under the covers without even having to look.
Rose looks down and checks this herself, raising her eyebrows when she realises he's right. Even she hadn't noticed that.
"You smell like apple shampoo and you-scented bath stuff, because everyone insists on buying you bucketfuls of rose bottles every birthday and Christmas. That stopped being funny even before you turned five. You taste," he begins, a hand under her jaw as he kisses her slowly, "like tea and rain and a hundred other chemical compounds it would be utterly unromantic to name."
Now propped up on his elbow, he turns his attention to the discarded pyjamas throughout the room, smirking slightly when he looks back at her, the faintest of blushes trailing across her cheeks.
"Your favourite colours are pink and yellow," he informs her with a nostalgic grin, picking up her hand and inspecting the nails. "You own four bottles of nail varnish but never use them. You can't stand ketchup on your chips and you wanted to be a ballet dancer when you were a little girl. The very first thought you had about me was that my hands are cold, you are currently twenty years, nine days, eleven minutes and forty-two seconds old, and you sing in your sleep."
Rose looks vaguely impressed.
"Now," he says, and kisses her again, "thanks to my brilliant mind and startling talent for observation, I happen to believe that I know you better than anyone else in the universe – and that's a lot of anyones. About nine hundred and twenty trillion, at last count. And a half."
She just about manages to nod, the hand trailing patterns across her stomach incredibly distracting. She wriggles and he raises an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he's doing.
"Right then, glad we sorted that out. You can tell Jackie when we next visit. Yes, mum," he mimics, voice ridiculously high. She elbows him in the ribs. "The Doctor does know me, probably better than you do, thankyouverymuch, and that statement now includes his awareness that feeding me clams is a very, very bad idea that should never, ever, ever be attempted without a sick bucket in the near vicinity."
Rose winces a little, remembering their latest meeting with Jackie. It had definitely not been a good idea to return to the Powell Estate in the throes of violent food poisoning. Despite Rose's insistence that even she hadn't known eating prawns was such a big no-no, despite the fanciness of the restaurant, the Doctor had still received his second Tyler slap and almost been kicked right out of the flat – literally.
Apparently, despite everyone else's ignorance as to Rose's incredible intolerance for shellfish, it had been entirely the Doctor's fault that she got sick. Because, obviously, as a Time Lord with "Time Lord-y powers", as Jackie had put it, he must surely have knowledge of absolutely everything, including the necessity of checking for allergies certain blonde girls don't know they have before taking them out on "fancy dinner dates".
A nudge in the leg brings Rose back to the present, and she grins. "And…you didn't tell her any of this yourself because…?"
The Doctor looks utterly incredulous. "Do you really think I would risk telling Jackie Tyler that I know the location of scars on her daughter's body that most certainly could not be found with clothes on?"
"Alright, you got a point there," Rose concedes, giggling. "I certainly wouldn't wanna if I was you, I'll give you that." Then something occurs to her, and a frown creases her forehead. "Do I seriously sing in my sleep?"