Chapter Text
When Rose Tyler was a little girl, she remembered the flat she lived in with her parents always smelling of ginger and nutmeg and vanilla when the Christmas season rolled around. The lights and the tree and the decorations could go up, but it just didn’t feel like Christmas yet until that first batch of biscuits came out of the oven. Her mother, Jackie, had taught Rose from a young age how to separate eggs, how to roll out dough, how to make icing, everything. It wasn’t long before Rose was experimenting with ingredients and making her dad, Pete, her guinea pig taste tester. She loved to bake. So much so, that she started her own bakery when she grew up, Tyler’s Treats.
Only now, the Christmas season meant being extremely busy, rush orders for parties, specialty cakes, and more biscuits than she had time to sit back and appreciate where it all started from. Over the years, as owning her own business took its toll in stress, Rose lost a bit of that special feeling Christmas biscuits gave her, even though her products tasted better than ever and her sales showed it.
Being so successful, she was able to hire on a full-time assistant, Clara, a lovely girl about Rose’s age with dark hair and eyes who made fantastic chocolate souffles. In addition, she was able to charm anyone into buying just about anything, a skill that was worth its weight in sugar.
With a smile that was slightly strained at the edges, Rose handed the receipt to the woman with long, tawny curls on the other side of the counter. It was the end of another busy day. “Here you go, Marilyn, your cake will be ready tomorrow.”
The customer smiled and her curly hair boinged as she nodded, thanking Rose as she headed out into a gray, slushy London evening. Rose followed her to the door and turned the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed,’ then locked the door with a sigh.
Clara emerged from the back room. “Do you realize it’s almost Christmas and we haven’t finished decorating the store?” She gestured at the tiny Charlie Brown style Christmas tree in the window. It had a red ribbon winding around it, but that was it. It was their one token to the season, even though they had a full box of decorations in storage.
Rose groaned, tucking stray wisps of blonde hair back into her short and practical ponytail, as she came back to the register to tally the day’s totals. “Ugh. Who has time?”
“Isn’t that why you hired me?” Clara asked as she grabbed a nearby broom to sweep up. “To have more time?”
“Seems like I’m always finding more to do,” said Rose. “And I used to love Christmas! I’d always do a lot of baking with my mum and we’d have the best time.”
“Are you going home to see your folks this year?”
Rose shook her head. “No, they’re going out of town. Apparently, mum’s Christmas present was a second honeymoon.”
“Well, that’s sweet, but what are you gonna do?” asked Clara. “Christmas isn’t a time to be alone! No wonder you’re all stressed out. I think someone’s feeling overworked and underappreciated.”
Rose made some notations in a ledger, then stuck the pen in cup full of pebbles and similar pens next to the register. “Well, life was a lot simpler as a kid.”
Clara laughed. “Welcome to the world of successful business!”
“Funny, I thought being successful meant I’d be doing less work, not more.”
“That’s only if you can delegate,” said Clara. “You, Rose, are a perfectionist when it comes to your craft. You couldn’t bear it if something came out of those ovens without your personal supervision and it was anything less than the most delicious thing anyone’s ever tasted.”
Rose gave her sarcastic cheering section a wry grin.
“Tell you what, I’ll stay late and get this place really decorated,” Clara said. “You just concentrate on being happy for Christmas. You wouldn’t want to show a frowny face to that new guy of yours!”
“His name is Jack and he’s not new, we’ve been dating almost a year.” Rose picked up a set of tongs and began putting the leftover biscuits from the cases into ‘day old’ bags that were sold at a discount.
“Really?” Clara asked in disbelief. “Huh. Time flies. I guess it’s just because I tend to see more of his friend John than Jack himself.”
“Well… he’s just been really busy since he took over being CEO of his family’s company,” said Rose, feeling obligated to defend the man she was seeing. With Clara around, Rose was able to have something of a private life, but with her schedule still so full, it mostly consisted of late dinners here and there. It suited Jack just fine, as he was always having to work late now at Harkness Industries, even later than Rose more often than not.
Clara paused, leaning on the broom, as she looked out the dark window, her eyes going a bit dreamy. “You know, if I was single, I’d have a go at that John. That man is fit.”
Rose laughed. “Don’t let Danny hear you say that.”
“A girl is entitled to a fantasy bloke, it’s a clause in the relationship contract. Don’t make me feel guilty over the hotness!”
‘The hotness’ comment was certainly true. John McShane was tall and lanky with cinnamon eyes, an amazing smile that no doubt stopped many females right in their tracks several times a day, and great hair the color of the richest chocolate that looked like it took no effort to appear artfully tousled, but probably required gel and a dryer. However, Jack was no slouch in the looks department either. His violet-blue eyes and dark hair, combined with devastating cheekbones and incredibly broad shoulders, had potential for making even the staunchest homophobe rethink their policy.
A tapping came at the glass door and the two women looked up to see John standing there, bundled up in a long tan trenchcoat with a stripey scarf around his neck. He grinned and waved, then made a pouty face as Rose came over and pretended to think about letting him in. Touching her tongue to her teeth, she unlocked the door and opened it.
“Well, if it isn’t the Doctor,” Rose said as he came inside. She’d given him the nickname when she’d found out he was the one always fixing it so that whatever Jack did went smoothly. Apparently, everyone at Harkness Industries was calling him ‘the Doctor’ now, because it fit so well. “Let me guess. Jack’s working late.” She relocked the door.
“Good guess,” he said, giving Clara a smile and a nod. “He’s working something out with the board of the directors. Since he took over, he’s been trying to instill some confidence in them and not all of them are sold on his youthful exuberance just yet. But!” He held up his index fingers. “He hasn’t canceled! He just asked me to pick you up, he’ll be meeting us at Torchwood Tower.”
“Ooh! Torchwood Tower!” exclaimed Clara. “That’s fancy!”
Rose tilted her head at the Doctor. “Are you sure you’re Jack’s second in command and not his driver?”
He gave a brief self-deprecating laugh. “I know. This is getting to be a habit with you and me.”
“I think it was ‘getting to be’ a habit months ago,” Rose said.
“Rose,” Clara wheedled, coming over to her friend’s side. “Aren’t you even a little excited? Torchwood’s the best restaurant in town. Maybe Jack has something special planned!”
The blonde lifted her eyebrows speculatively. “Maybe… he wants to make some Christmas plans? That’s kind of a big deal in a relationship.”
Clara’s shoulders slumped as she gave Rose her ‘you are clueless’ look. “Think a little more special than that, Rose.” She paused significantly, but the other woman just stared at her blankly. Clara sighed in exasperation and elaborated, “I have four girlfriends whose husbands proposed to them there!”
Rose’s eyes went wide. Self-consciously, she looked down at her festive green apron over her work clothes and touched her ponytail. “Um, I better get changed!” she said, darting around the counter to the back while Clara’s giggles followed her.
Ten minutes later, Rose reemerged in a cute, knee-length dress in sapphire blue that had a lace overlay on the bodice, revealing her collarbone and making up little puffed sleeves. Her hair looked sleek, the result of lightning fast flat-ironing. She swung her leather jacket around her shoulders and rolled her eyes as she saw John stuffing the last of a Christmas biscuit in his mouth. She wondered how many he’d eaten while she was in the back.
“Your legs are gonna freeze,” he pointed out.
“Worth it for beauty,” said Rose with confidence. She turned to her friend, who was already hanging fake greenery along the glass cases. “Clara, make sure to tell the dishwasher--”
“--to go easy on the dish soap, it changes the flavor of the pastries, I know.” Clara made little shooing motions with her hands. “Go, have fun!”
Rose and the Doctor left the shop and headed down the icy street to where the Doctor had parked his car. “I’m sorry that chauffeuring the boss’s girlfriend has been added to your job description,” she said, giving him an apologetic smile.
He shrugged, good-naturedly. “It’s always nice to see you.”
“Aww, you came just to see me?” she asked. “Or was it the pound of biscuits waiting for you?”
“Welllll,” he said, tugging on his left ear. “It might be the biscuits.” He grinned and opened the car door for her, belatedly realizing he’d left his sketchbook on the passenger seat. “Oh, just throw that in the backseat.”
“What is this?” she asked as she sat down, pulling the book into her lap and opening it.
“Just a hobby,” he said, closing the door so he could come round to the driver’s side.
Rose looked through the pages of pencil and ink drawings. They were incredibly detailed and life-like. His figure studies were full of motion and depth, his landscapes were filled with light. Every page was evocative of some emotion, like a forgotten memory. “Wow,” she breathed as he climbed in behind the wheel. “This is a hobby? Doctor, I’m really impressed! Do you draw these from life?”
“No,” he said, “not for the most part. Sometimes I’ll draw the places from photographs, but usually it’s just out of my head. I have some really weird dreams.” He leaned over and turned the page, showing a man looking out at an alien landscape with tall, twisting trees that might have been right out of a Dr. Suess book.
“You have some real talent,” she said, closing the sketchbook. Looking at him, she touched her tongue to her smile again as she teased, “And this whole time, I just thought of you as Jack’s majordomo.”
“Is that so?” he scoffed as he started up the car. “I’ll have you know, Rose Tyler, that I am a very integral, intricate part of business affairs!”
“Ohhh,” she said, stretching out the syllable. “Intricate, eh?”
“I push a lot of paper.”
* * *
The line of people at Torchwood Tower was out the door, so rather than have both of them fight their way to the host podium, the Doctor opted to weave his way through while Rose waited outside. When he came back, jogging across the street to his car, he heaved the sigh of someone who figured they should have expected something like this.
“Sooo,” he said, coming to a halt and shoving his hands deep in his trenchcoat pockets. “He’s not here yet. They have no record of him making a reservation and there’s a forty-five minute wait.”
Rose’s stomach chose that moment to remind her she hadn’t eaten since lunch. Loudly. “I’m starving,” she said.
The Doctor looked off down the road and licked his lips. “You know what? There’s a nice little place near here that I go to all the time. There’s never any wait.” He looked back at her, lifting his eyebrows. “You up for it?”
She shrugged, the need for food becoming more important than the fancy ambience. “Lead the way. We can call Jack and tell him where to meet us.”
Five minutes later, the Doctor and Rose were seated inside the Tardis Diner, a cozy place that currently looked like an elf had barfed Christmas all over every available surface. If it was cheap and plastic and holiday-oriented, Rose suspected it was on display. But for all that, it was warm and dry, the service friendly and fast, and the Doctor vouched for everything on the menu.
She caught him looking at her while she was making a face at the frankly disturbing-looking reindeer on their table and she gave an embarrassed wince. “This place is sure… full of Christmas spirit,” she said, trying to make it sound positive.
The Doctor shimmied out of his trenchcoat, revealing a brown suit with tiny blue pinstripes, matching his light blue Oxford and brown and blue floral tie. “Yeah, I like it,” he said, giving a nod to the woman behind the counter. “It’s kind of old-fashioned that way. You don’t see it that much anymore.”
She couldn’t help a small smile at such open honesty. “So, what are you doing for Christmas?” she asked, more to make conversation than anything else.
“Dunno,” he said, scratching the side of his head as he sat back in the vinyl booth. “Unless Jack ropes me into doing something, I’ll probably be watching reruns of Miracle on 34th Street.”
“You’re not… going home or something?” she asked.
“No home to go to,” he said. “I’ve got a kid sister, Dorothy, wellllll, she’s not a kid anymore, but if you call her Dorothy, she’ll still pop you one. Ace has got her own family now, and I usually end up feeling like a fifth wheel, which is just… not how I’d like to feel on Christmas.” He looked down at the formica tabletop. “Our parents died when we were small.”
“Oh, Doctor, I’m so sorry,” she said with genuine sympathy, reaching across the table to touch his hand gently.
“Thanks,” he said, pressing his lips together in a sad smile. He turned his hand over and gave hers a squeeze. “I do remember Christmas being a big deal back then. The whole clan getting together, squabbling over dinner. Actually, the squabbling still happens, just on a smaller scale. First class squabbler, Ace is.” They chuckled. “And what about you? Family Christmas?”
“Well, um…”
A tapping on the window next to them drew their attention. Jack stood there in his long dark gray coat and a black scarf. Rose smiled, the Doctor withdrew his hand from hers to tap his watch pointedly. The devastatingly handsome man came around to the door of the diner, then to their table, holding his hands out in a gesture of supplication.
“What a mix-up,” he said, his American accent betraying his childhood growing up in Illinois, despite the fact that he’d actually been born in Glasgow. Jack was really a man of the world. “I have no idea what happened with Torchwood, I swear I made the reservations.”
Rose just lifted one shoulder and gave him a small smile. He was here now and they could still have dinner, she supposed the timing and location didn’t matter all that much.
“Well, I’m off,” said the Doctor, collecting up his coat and preparing to get up from his seat.
“Oh, Doctor, no,” said Jack. “I’m so sorry to have put you through all of this. Why don’t you stay?”
“And be a tag-along to your romantic evening?” the Doctor asked as he slid out of the booth and began tugging on his trenchcoat. “No, ta. I’ll leave you two alone and just slink off into the cold and bitter night. Alone.”
Rose giggled as the Doctor stuck out his bottom lip and gave it a tremble for maximum pathetic effect. He really did have a great lower lip, very lush and pink. Nothing on Jack’s perfectly sculpted lips, of course, but still… nice.
Jack rolled his eyes. “You think you’re so dramatic.”
“I am so dramatic.” He winked at Rose.
“Thank you for keeping me company,” she said.
He gave a gallant little bow. “My pleasure, fair lady.” He turned to Jack. “You, I will see bright and early. As always, we have a ton of paperwork to go over.”
Jack shook his friend’s hand. “Yes, sir,” he said, as if the Doctor were the man in charge. “Thanks again,” he called as the Doctor sidled around him and headed for the door.
With a final wave, the Doctor was gone and Jack took the seat he’d vacated, giving Rose a flashing smile as he removed his jacket. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick you up and then the mess with the reservations--”
She waved a hand. “It’s not a problem. I was just wondering why you’d picked such a fancy place to have dinner.” ‘Wondering’ wasn’t the half of it. The prospect of Jack suggesting they take their relationship to the next level had been gnawing at her insides since Clara had said it. Or that could be the hunger talking, by that point, she wasn’t entirely sure.
“Well…” he began, slowly. “I know you always spend Christmas with your family…”
“Not this year,” she said. “They’re going out of town. Second honeymoon. I have to fend for myself.”
“Oh,” he said, his face brightening. “Well, good for them, and that plays right into my plan.” He leaned forward, reaching across the table to take her hands in his. “I want you to meet my mother.”
Rose blinked a few times. Of all the possible scenarios she’d envisioned, this hadn’t been one of them. “Your mother?” she repeated.
“Yeah,” he said. “She’s gonna be up at the ancestral home in northern Scotland over Christmas.”
She smiled, though it faltered a bit as she foundered in confusion. “Jack, are you… trying to ask me something?” She had to try one last time to see if this was what she thought it was. Even if she still needed time to think about a marriage proposal, she didn’t want to accept before he’d actually asked, that seemed a bit keen.
“How I see it,” he went on, “I’ll fly up ahead of time very early in the morning and help get the place in order and all ready for Christmas, your ticket will be waiting for you at the airport and you can arrive later in the day. I’ll pick you up.”
“And it’ll just be us… and then your mother,” she said. This still sounded very intimate. A man didn’t invite a woman to meet his family unless he was really serious.
Jack smiled. “She’s gonna love you.”
All Rose could do was smile back. That gnawing feeling still hadn’t gone away.