Betaness thanks to rosesbud. Blame to kalleah's smut cliché prompts.
It was a disgusting concoction; mayo mixed with mustard mixed with vinegar. What was worse was that she was sandwiching chips between crisps before dunking them in the yellow mess on her tray. "I'm just saying. The sex isn't always going to be brilliant."
Her friend turned from her, unable to look at the terrible food atrocity going on in their booth. "Says you. I think it's important, at least. If you don't have the sex, what do you have?"
The mad dipper giggled. "You could try talking to him. Better yet, you could try talking to him about why the sex isn't all that great."
"And what do you know about that, then?"
Deciding the mustard, vinegar, and mayonnaise mix wasn't bad enough; the young woman began dipping crisps into her ice cream as well. "This is good. You have to try this. The chocolate really brings out the…barbeque flavour."
The dark-skinned woman turned slightly in her seat, so that she was facing the rest of the shop and not her friend. "I'm not going out with you in public any more. And you never answered the question. If you two communicate so well, why isn't the sex brilliant?"
Moving on to chip-crisp-ice cream sandwiches, the obviously pregnant of the two (despite only barely showing) took a thoughtful bite, as if chewing very hard would give some answers. She tucked bleached tresses behind her ears as she swallowed. "Well, I love him. And I don't want to hurt his feelings. Because, really—it isn't his fault. It's just sometimes… well, lets just put it this way. I should have a BAFTA for some of the fake orgasms that came with getting little Junior, here."
Shareen looked at her friend's shirt, just below the logo for some band she'd never heard of. "But why keep doing it, if it's not good? Especially if he knocked you up."
Brushing her hand across her stomach, Rose smiled proudly. "We had to work hard for this little loaf."
Her friend hid her eyes from the other customers, trying to judge how much of that…outburst they'd all heard. "Oh my god. You were trying to get pregnant. I'm SO telling Jackie. She hates him, you know."
"Yes, I know." Getting out her spoon, Rose stared at the spotted orange linoleum floor before shoveling hot fudge-covered ice cream into her mouth. "It's bad enough she thinks it's an accident. She'll really give me an earful if she finds out we were trying."
"God." Shareen sat back, blown away by that news. "You know what kind of girl tries to get pregnant. Everybody's going to say you're trying to trap him."
Licking the back of her spoon, Rose shrugged. "Well, I can't control what other people think. He doesn't have any family but me, and Junior. And my mum, sorta. When she wants to feed him to death instead of nag him to death. It keeps changing."
Shareen looked at her friend's left hand, noticing the conspicuous absence of a ring. "I don't get it. Your mother hates him, he's rude to all of your friends, he's not marrying you. Other than a wad of cash to take you travelling and the whole 'oh he's so lonely, I'm the only one that can make it better,' thing, why put up with him? Of course, I probably have my answer right there. Money… travelling. But I'd think you'd at least want some decent sex out of the deal. I mean, if things keep going the way they are with Carl… I'm sorry. But some things are just unsexy."
Rose rolled her eyes, a bit frustrated with her friend's charmed life. "You want unsexy sex? Unsexier than him rushing and not letting you finish up? I'll tell you about the most not-good sex in the entire universe. It's called ovulation sex. When conditions are optimal, it doesn't matter what he's doing, what you're doing…dinner can burn, mum can go hang, and the horde of blood-hungry aliens chasing after you need to just stop for a time-out (not that that ever happens to me, of course), because you're ovulating, and if you don't have sex RIGHT NOW, you're going to have to wait an entire month to try to conceive again."
The other woman was going to jump in with something about then, but never got the chance—Rose took a deep breath and continued on, pointed a finger at her friend in an almost accusatory manner as her diatribe got increasingly louder. "There is nothing quite as un-sexy obligatory ovulation sex. So whatever you and Carl are going through… it isn't that. So just… quit going on about it? Oh, Shareen hasn't had an orgasm in two weeks. Shareen's going to dump him because of that. Just… just get yourself a vibrator and be done with it. Because… because if you really love someone, you're not going to let something like grossly underrated 'why should I even bother' sex get in the way of your relationship."
A tall figure leaned over the back of the booth, putting his head right into Rose's. "Does anybody think about ME in all this? You know, all YOU had to do was fake it. Moan, moan, bite my earlobe, tell me I'm a hunk of burning man-flesh (well, not in those exact words, but you get the point—I need a little dirty talk to get me there). Meanwhile /I/ actually had to learn how to come on command."
…And at this point the whole place was staring at them. Seven blue-haired ladies, two old men playing cards, a pimply teenager behind the counter, and the poor woman who'd just had her booth invaded by the Doctor, simply because she had the misfortune of sitting in the booth adjacent to where all the action was taking place. Rose clenched her eyes shut. "I thought you LIKED it when I bit your earlobe?"
Shareen pushed her hamburger away from her. "Thanks for that."
Sliding out of the booth behind them, the Doctor stood up straight, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. "Well, I came to see if you were ready to go, but, uh, well, I'll leave you to it." He made it to the door then turned around, grinning. "And just remember—bad sex is still sex."
"For you, maybe!" Rose called after him as the glass shop door closed behind him.
The place seemed to hang in silence for a moment, but then the murmuring started.
Rose Tyler avoided her friend's embarrassed glare and put her full attention into her ice cream. "Just shuddup. I don't even wanna hear it."