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“Mornin’, Rose! Been waiting for you to get up for hours. You’d sleep the day away, you lot. I wanted to take you to this fantastic planet in the Gerflion System with–”
Rose walks up to the Doctor and places a single finger over his lips. “Nope! Not today,” she announces, before stepping back to plop down on the jump seat.
“Whaddya mean, ‘not today’?” the Doctor asks with a healthy amount of indignation.
Smirking, Rose answers. “I’m tired, Doctor. Don’t you ever need a day off from saving the universe? Don’t get me wrong, I love it. I really do. But don’t you ever feel like lounging around in your jimjams while watching trashy telly and eating ice cream out of a carton?”
An utterly baffled Doctor stares back at her. “A day off? Jimjams?” He flounders a moment longer before focusing his gaze on Rose. “You’re not dressed.”
“Nope!” She smiles at him, then, tongue between her teeth. “Told you. We’re taking the day off. We’re gonna be lazy. Even impressive Time Lords need some rest and relaxation every now and then.”
The Doctor huffs and crosses his arms across his chest. “I don’t need a day off. Like distractions, me. Keeps me from rememberin’–” Stopping short, he hesitates a moment before turning around to fiddle with something on the console.
It takes Rose a moment to realize what the Doctor almost said, and in an instant, she’s at his side, placing a hand over his to cease his needless tinkering. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to push you. We can go to the planet, an’ I’ll just… take a bath later or somethin’.”
With a sigh, the Doctor turns around and leans against the console. “No, we’ll take the day off. Figure you’re right.”
Rose searches his face for a moment before cracking a grin. “Did you just say I’m right, Doctor? Might need to get that in writing.”
“Oi!” He scowls. “Don’t push it.”
She tries to muffle another round of giggles, but when a few escape under the hand covering her mouth, the Doctor cracks a grin with her.
“So, Rose Tyler, what do you do when you take the day off?” There’s a bit of curiosity on the Doctor’s face, which Rose finds endearing.
“Well, Doctor, first of all, ditch the trousers and leather.” She smiles, her eyes wide and innocent, knowing exactly how her demand might be taken.
“Pardon?”
“It’s the first rule of a lazy day. No street clothes, only jimjams.” Rose has no idea whether or not the Doctor will comply, but the idea of seeing him in something other than his jeans and jumpers sends a thrill of excitement through her.
The Doctor stares at Rose for several moments, his blue eyes boring into hers, before he flicks his gaze her her clothing, then back to her face. His own face his frustratingly impassive. “What else?” he asks, clearly choosing not to address her first point.
“Well,” Rose starts, “then we put the kettle on and make a nice fry up. Gotta have energy to do nothing all day, yeah?”
A corner of the Doctor’s mouth twitches. “That’s a lot of work when you’re trying to be lazy.”
“Or banana pancakes?” Rose asks, knowing the Doctor will be more enthusiastic about this option.
“Banana pancakes,” he agrees with a nod. “Bananas are good.” There’s a pause before he continues. “And the rest?”
“Let’s start with the first two things, and I’ll continue later.” Rose eyes the Doctor up and down, intentionally lingering on his trousers and jacket. He sighs in what she hopes is defeat. “I’ll be in the galley.”
A few hours later, Rose bites her lip as she watches the Doctor walk across the media room to adjust something on the enormous futuristic stereo system lining the wall next to the equally extravagant television. She still can't believe he actually changed into jimjams, and really– It's not her fault she can't stop staring at his arse.
When he'd walked into the galley in navy blue cotton bottoms and a snug gray t-shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders and well developed chest muscles, she’d dropped the whisk into the bowl of pancake batter in surprise, and her jaw had fallen open in shock. Her cover had been rather lame – mumbling something about forgetting the bananas – as she’d turned back to her task, her face flush with both embarrassment and an unexpected flare of attraction.
She’d somehow managed to keep her eyes off the revealed bits of him – well, mostly – during breakfast as they’d bantered back and forth together about some of his outlandish adventures.
But now? She’s rather distracted.
“Rose?” the Doctor asks from across the room.
It takes Rose a moment to register his voice. “Hmmmm?”
“I’m assuming the next step in this day of laziness is to spend a significant amount of time wasting away in front of the screen watching films or, as you said, ‘trashy telly’?” The Doctor stands next to the television and looks slightly unsure of himself, like he’s out of his element. Rose wonders if he feels exposed in his jimjams and immediately experiences a rush of shame for ogling the Doctor, especially after she’d been the one who practically forced him into other clothes.
“Yep!” Rose answers, hopping off the couch to walk to the Doctor. She grabs his hand and pulls him back to sit beside her. “We’ll take a break for some ice cream in a few hours, and that’s basically how I do it. An’ it doesn’t have to be all trashy telly. I’m sure you have plenty to say about cheesy space movies.”
At this, the Doctor’s eyes brighten, and he grins. “Rubbish, the lot of them. Really, they get it all wrong. In fact–” He takes a deep breath to begin what is likely a winded tirade about human's inferior interpretation of space, but Rose once again puts a stop to his rambling.
“How about we just start watching something? You pick first.” Rose pauses, wondering how to use the entire entertainment system and where, exactly, the Doctor keeps his films and shows. “Um, how does this work?”
“You just ask the TARDIS, and she’ll put it on. Or, if you want, say, a soap opera from the 42nd century, she’ll pick one for you.” the Doctor explains.
Rose twists and leans against the armrest. “There are still soap operas in the 42th century?”
“Anything you want, Rose. Just ask the TARDIS. Once they started adding aliens and gave them a real budget, the soaps got much better.” The Doctor stops short. “Not that I would know. Don’t much care for the soaps, me.”
With a gleeful laugh, Rose pokes the Doctor. “You like them! You do! Ha!” The Doctor scowls as Rose giggles madly over this new revelation. “So what’s your favorite?”
“Told you, don’t do soap operas,” the Doctor insists, studiously avoiding her gaze.
Rose studies him a moment, noting the twinge of redness on the tips of his years. “You’re lying. Come on, Doctor,” she wheedles, resting her chin on his shoulder, not even caring how pathetic she might sound. “We can watch it together, and you can tell me all about it.”
The Doctor’s jaw twitches, and Rose knows he’s having an internal battle. Finally, with a sigh, he gives in. “By the Light of the Binary Moon,” the Doctor mumbles. “Thirty six seasons and counting, but it peaked between the years of 4039 and 4187.”
“I knew it!” she cries, and pumps the air in victory. “Can I try to communicate with the TARDIS?”
The Doctor nods and tells her what season to request. Rose closes her eyes. Still new to the concept of communicating with a telepathic ship, she scrunches her face in concentration. Hi, TARDIS. Can we please watch By the Light of the Binary Moon, season seven? Thank you.
In an instant, the room fills with sound, and Rose’s eyes fly open in surprise. The lights darken without prompting, and the screen in front of them lights up with color.
“Fantastic!” the Doctor says and turns to Rose, beaming with glee. He hesitates a moment, then lifts one arm, inviting Rose to lean against him.
Rose blushes and is instantly thankful for the darkened room. She eagerly cuddles up next to the Doctor, and as inconspicuously as possible, breathes in his scent, which is amplified by his lack of layers. She sighs softly, content.
“Rose?” the Doctor asks, and she hopes to never forget the sensation of his voice rumbling against her ear.
“Mmm?”
He clears his throat. “Maybe a day off now and again isn’t so bad. Could get used to being lazy, me.”
Rose smiles into his shirt but doesn’t answer.
He’s silent a moment before adding. “As long as it’s with you.”