Of Cakes and Kisses
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. All rights go to the BBC.
Summary: The Doctor takes a hand at baking, because... well, because he'd do anything for her. – A Tenth Doctor and Rose fluffy one shot. Post Idiot's Lantern. –
"Doctor? What are you doing?" Rose's snorted question caused the Doctor to whip around to face her, slightly startled he'd been caught out.
Her face was bemused. She seemed to be struggling not to laugh at him, and he couldn't blame her. He was, after all, stood in the kitchen by the oven with his arms crossed, staring at said oven (something he hadn't been near in centuries)... oh, and then there was the small detail of him being covered from head to toe in white, powdered flour.
"Oh, um... well, I was just..." He stared down at his messy state, idly pulling on an earlobe and trying to think up a good excuse for his appearance. He came up with none. He sighed; the truth was the best option then, he supposed. "I was making a cake."
Rose's eyebrows shot up. "A cake?" she repeated. She grinned widely, her tongue peeking between her teeth. "You bake? Really? Never seen you bake before." She shook her head in clear astonishment.
"Well, no..." he admitted. "Not usually." His expression became sheepish, and a breath came gently from his mouth. "But... well, you like them, don't you? You said you liked sponge cakes, chocolate icing, right?" He grinned. "So, I thought... well, I'll bet a Miss Rose Tyler would love one of my extra, special, tasty, spongy, chocolate cakes!"
A smile played across Rose's face and she stepped over to the Timelord, taking his white, powdered hand in hers. "Thanks," she said, honestly more touched than she would have expected for some reason. Then she giggled at the look of his sheepish face, covered in splodges with white, snow-like flour. "But you really didn't have to turn yourself into a snowman for me."
The Doctor looked down at his suit, covered almost entirely white. "Yeah..." he muttered. "The rolling pin did kinda get from me a bit."
Rose shook her head. "I'm not even gonna ask." She glanced at the oven. "So I'm guessin' you got through the first part okay, yeah? - I mean apart from the dressing up as Jack Frost bit, of course - Just need to try and not let it burn now, huh?"
"Yes, seems so," the Doctor nodded, glancing briefly at the oven before turning his gaze back to Rose. She was watching his face, a smile tugging one side of her lips. It looked like she was still stifling a laugh. Well, that was to be expected. He could bet he looked like a right plonker.
She put her hand up to his cheek, her smile still tainting across her face, and brushed off some of the white powder. "You've got a bit of..." she trailed off, her hand still brushing across his face, making the white dust-like powder to float into the air and catch on her fingers.
"Rose," he protested weakly, in a small whine resembling a little boy with a mother rubbing a tissue against his nose. His nose scrunched back.
Rose suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at him. "Do you want to save the universe dressed as some sort of weird, gone-wrong albino?" she asked, her hands brushing off his white-y, brown hair.
The Doctor just sighed, and Rose got the feeling he was now the one suppressing rolling his eyes. "I can do this myself you know," he said eventually, as Rose grabbed a tea towel and rubbed it across his forehead.
"I know," she quipped in response, but made no move to stop what she was doing.
There was a long pause, where the Doctor chose to stay stock still, his muscles and facial features not moving an inch; indeed, he didn't even appear to be blinking. His face was like marble. It unnerved Rose a little.
"So, why did you want to make me a cake anyway?" she eventually asked, in a bid to get his jaw working.
"Oh," the Doctor's jaw relaxed a little, and his eyes widened slightly in endearing innocence. "I dunno," he muttered, his lips barely moving. "Just a bit of a thank-you-sorry."
Rose frowned at him. "A bit of a what?"
"Thank-you-sorry," he repeated. "A thank you... and an apology."
Rose shook her head in slight confusion, her hand lowering from his now clean face. "You've got nothin' to thank me for. An' certainly nothin' to apologize for."
"Oh, but I have," he insisted, his hand reaching out to hers, which she grasped gladly. He grinned, eyes sparking, at her, "So much to thank you for Rose."
She looked down at the tiled floor, finding his gaze slightly intimidating as he gazed at her with all the pride and affection in the universe.
"Thank you, Rose. For being here. For staying here. For being... brilliant. And for just... being you."
"Well... your welcome," she murmured, forcing herself to meet his tender gaze. "But, there's really no need to thank me for stayin' with you. Trust me, I'm not going anywhere." She grinned. "That'd be like thankin' me for eating toffee ice cream for pudding. It's somethin' you just can't give up. Like this," she waved her hand around the general direction of the Tardis corridors. "How could I give ever leave..." her gaze met the Doctor's, "this?" she said sincerely, and with such meaning, the Doctor momentarily gaped at her openness.
He gazed back at her, musing that that little fact should probably scare him. The fact that she felt so utterly compelled to never leave, the fact that she found the idea so absurd... it should terrify him that she depended on, and... liked him and his life so much. But when he looked at her beaming smile, her big brown eyes, so full of light, with such a honest, affectionate gaze, he just couldn't help but be touched by her sentiment.
"Well, that's good," he nodded. "Because it would be a shame for you to leave when there's so much more for me to show you."
Rose beamed at him. Then her features became thoughtful. "Alright then, I'll accept a bit of that cake for a thank you, but not a sorry. I'm tellin' you now," she pointed her forefinger onto his chest, "you've got nothin' to apologize for. Well, as far as I can think of... except maybe that comment about my mum resembling a fire breathin' dragon you made the other day."
The Doctor's eyes grew wide, and his voice tainted a much higher tone than usual, as he spoke in protest. "What? Hey, you laughed when I said that! You never once said -!"
Rose giggled, her finger pressing against his lips, "I'm jokin' Doctor. Now, what's to be sorry about?" She looked at him sternly, and he suppressed a laugh at the endearing frown playing across her face.
Her finger had moved away from his mouth, and he found himself opening and closing it a few times, before sighing. "You do remember the trip to 1953?"
Rose snorted. "Hard to forget, having your face sucked of by a TV. One of the less pleasant experiences too, I'll tell ya that."
"Yes," he said, with some sort of pain hazing his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry. About that. If I hadn't –"
"Whoa, whoa, wait just there," Rose cut him off, staring at him. "You're not blamin' yourself for that, are you?" The Doctor shrugged, and opened his mouth to speak (and probably ramble a bit as well, Rose supposed) but she quickly cut him off, "No Doctor, if anythin' it's mine."
"No, but –" Again, however, the Doctor was silenced as Rose's forefinger was pressed against his mouth. A rather floury forefinger the Doctor couldn't help noticing as the powder squeezed between his lips.
"Apology not accepted," she told him, "'cause none's needed. Now you just shut up, okay?"
"Cheeky," the Doctor muttered, folding his arms across his chest, as she took her finger back.
"Hmm, bet that was somethin' you didn't miss when I was a faceless monster," she quipped lightly, with a small smile.
"Oh Rose, you were never the monster," he replied with a frown. "That role belonged to the wire. Though you might be right about the cheeky part," he grinned, eyebrows raising upwards. Then, something appearing in his eyes, and he reached over and cupped her cheek in his hands. "Still, I am very glad this face is back, I've grown rather attached to it."
She smiled. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he muttered. He stared at her and, manic grin gone, the small smile tugging up his lips and fireworks dazzling in his eyes showed all the fervor and rush of sincere pride and affection his nine-hundred years could hold.
She gazed back at him, her mouth not helping but to form a quietly amazed 'o' as she stared at his beautifully handsome face, with old, yet deeply passionate, brown eyes. Then, quite unthinkingly, selfishly, but with a powerful need, Rose leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his.
There was a brief moment, which in reality lasted only a few seconds, but felt to Rose like an eternity, where the Doctor's lips did not move but remained soft, yet perfectly immobile against hers. He didn't kiss her back. But just as her horror stepped in and she was taking away the contact (in the hope of either bolting straight out of the kitchen door, or else begging forgiveness for her insufferable weakness) the Doctor's lips reiterated, pushing firmly against hers with a wild passion she had never experienced with Mickey.
His hands went around her waist, and his lips teased everywhere against her; on her jaw, above her neck, the tip of her nose. The electricity was more than a spark; through each piece of skin he touched the fervor grew and the lightning bolt fired, burning through their skin, and almost knocking Rose backward against the kitchen table.
His body held her tight against him.
Her hair brushed and tingled against his face.
Their eyes were burning. Their interlocked mouths were teasing.
And the cake turned from a crusty brown, to coal black.
Neither one of them noticed.
Ah, went from fluffy to intimate an the end there.
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