Crossed Wires

Or: Five Ways the Biological Metacrisis Has Gone Wrong (And One Way It's Gone Very Right)

Author: WynterEyez

Fandom: Doctor Who

Rating: T

Characters: Ten-II, Rose Tyler

Pairing: Eventual Ten-II/Rose

Beta: None, though that would've been a damn good idea, don't you think?

Spoilers: If you've seen up through Journey's End, you're fine.

Summary: Humor. Rose discovers that, during the Metacrisis, the Doctor's wires got a little crossed. Not a 'real' Five Things style story, but close enough. Broken into two parts because it got a little longer than I'd expected. Next chapter should be done in couple of days or so, as soon as I decide if I want the last part to be smutty or not. Assuming I can do smutty.

Author's Note: Stuff like this has probably been done ad infinitum. Or ad nauseum. I haven't read any, though, so any similarities to others are entirely coincidental.

I. Cosmetics

She isn't aware there's anything wrong at first. Well, wrong beyond the hand that is strangely warm in hers, or the solitary heart beating frantically beneath his ribs, or the look of confusion on his face as they stare at each other, wondering how they'd come to this point.

He opens his mouth, and she leans forward, hoping he'll say something profound. She'd quite liked "I love you;" a girl could get used to that. And with the Doctor's loquacity, she knows he can expound at great length on the subject. So she waits, breath held in anticipation.

"We match!" His voice is high with excitement.

Huh? Okay, not what she expected, but she waits patiently. The Doctor's logic isn't always easy to follow, taking twists and turns and detours no one would expect, but it tended to get somewhere. Eventually. But rather than explain, the Doctor continues to stare at her, grinning widely as he waits for her to react to what he seems to view as a stunning proclamation. "Whuh?" she finally ventures.

"Our clothes," he said impatiently. "Blue jackets, red shirts… it's brilliant! We look like one of those cute couples who dresses alike! One of Donna's glamour magazines had a great article last month about couples dressing alike. Not sure that shade of blue suits you, though," he added critically. "You'd look better in a lighter blue. Or pink! Pink and yellow."

Rose blinks. Then blinks again. She opens her mouth. Shuts it. Opens it again. Then is spared the embarrassment of not having an answer by her mum's habit of blithely interrupting any conversation that would dare to exclude her. Rose thinks she could kiss her.

"Pete's sending a limo." She eyes the Doctor, who's still looking at Rose with that goofy grin. "Well, isn't this handy? Now you have no excuse not to go to the wedding!" Jackie gushes.

Never mind the kiss. Only her mother could face the end of everything and come away thinking about the year's biggest party.

"Wedding?" the Doctor visibly pricks up, which amazes Rose because she hadn't thought it was physically possible for him to get even more excited without seriously straining something. "What wedding? I love weddings!" His voice has become almost too high-pitched for human hearing.

Since when?
Rose wonders. But she holds her tongue, knowing that between these two, she won't get a word in edgewise.

"President Jones' daughter Madelaine! She's marrying Jimmy Stone, the lead guitarist from the DedHeds! Rose used to date Jimmy back in our world, you know," she continues conspiratorially. "Total tosser, that one. Not at all like this Jimmy."

"Mum," Rose hisses. She does not want the Doctor treated to The Complete History of Rose Tyler's Sex Life, as told by her mum.

Fortunately, Jackie has other things on her mind. "Rose was asked to be a bridesmaid," she says. "But she's been just full of excuses. 'I have to save the world, Mum.' 'I don't have a date, Mum.' 'I'm going to be in a parallel world, Mum.'" Jackie snorted. "I told Harriet – can you believe that? I'm on a first name basis with the President! – that of course Rose will be a bridesmaid; she's just too overwhelmed by the offer to respond!"

A discussion of Rose's dress follows, and she finds herself bored with talk of lace and wine-colored satin, of corsets and corsages and whether Rose should dye her hair or not. She's starting to feel like a doll.

They're still talking when the limo arrives to take them to Bergen. The Doctor takes the seat across from Jackie, oblivious to the feel of Rose's thigh pressed against his. Rose wishes she could be as oblivious; talk of the wedding is driving her spare. She tries to distract herself and ends up watching him, this other Doctor who is focused on Jackie with the same wonder and intensity he'd once given to the mysteries of the universe. He'd gazed at her like that before the TARDIS abandoned them.

He's leaning forward, eyes alight, hanging on every word as Jackie describes the upcoming nuptials in excruciating detail. She swears he was actually salivating at one point, when Jackie reels off a guest list that sounds like it would be more at home at a Hollywood premiere.

Okay… so he has an interest in domestics. No big deal. Might as well get used to it, since he's doomed to a lifetime of them.


They spend the night at her flat, with the Doctor curled on the couch wrapped in a duvet the same color as the TARDIS. Rose checks on him first thing in the morning, seeing that he has kicked off the duvet and is now sprawled across the couch cushions, his hair a spiky mess and his burgundy shirt rucked up and showing a good amount of bare abdomen. There's a fashion magazine laying open on his chest, a curious choice of reading material when she has several science and nature magazines on her shelves. There are dark rings around his eyes, and she wonders when he finally went to sleep.

She resists the urge to ruffle his hair and heads towards the loo.

Her lip gloss is missing. She's not sure why that's the first thing she notices when she stumbles into the bathroom that morning, but it is conspicuous by its absence. The rest of her make-up is scattered around the counter as well, and she eyes it in confusion. She's sure she usually keeps it in a more orderly fashion. Perhaps the Doctor had accidentally knocked it all off and replaced it, and the lip gloss had been overlooked.

But a quick look around proves futile; her Strawberry Sparkle, water-resistant, lip-plumping, smear-proof, sex-now-please lip gloss that has withstood invasions of Daleks and Cybermen, is gone.

Puzzled, Rose finishes up in the bathroom, then heads out. The sound of the Doctor shifting on the couch draws her back into the living room, and she stands in the doorway, watching. At first, she is enjoying the sight of him all rumpled and groggy and adorably confused, and then something else catches her attention. Her lip gloss.

It's sitting on the coffee table, open. And the tube is nearly empty.

She stares. Those aren't bags around his eyes… he's wearing enough eye shadow to be mistaken for a panda. And, she notices with a flash of irritation, he had the kind of eyelashes that mascara were made for mascara.

Not quite sure how to react, she walks over to the table and picks up the tube. Bright panda eyes watch her, and the Doctor sits upright, his expression guilty.

"Rose, about the lip gloss…" He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

"Yes?" she encouraged, waiting for an explanation (and oh, how she wanted an explanation!), or at least an apology. That had been expensive lip gloss.

His tongue flicked out, running over his pouty, plump, glossy lips. "Does it come in banana flavor?"