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“What’s that?” the Doctor said from somewhere behind Rose.
She jumped, nearly knocking over the cup of tea she was making. “I didn’t know you were in here, Uncle Doctor.”
He shrugged; he was sitting (in a very loose sense of the word) on one of the kitchen chairs with his legs drawn up in a way that made him look a bit like a strange bird. “The garden won this round,” he said, referring to the plants he was attempting to cultivate. “So?” He pointed at Rose’s tea with his sonic.
“This? It’s just a herbal tea blend my friend Luna made,” Rose said.
“Is Luna the one with the necklaces or the one with the coat my sixth incarnation would’ve liked?” The Doctor had been introduced to Rose’s friends before, but it seemed he was better at remembering people if he met them while he was trying to save the world from yet another invasion.
Rose smiled. “The one with the necklaces.” She stirred her tea, then took a sip. “Mm! This is good, Uncle Doctor, you should try it.”
“Brilliant!” He pointed his sonic at the kettle now, as if planning to re-boil the water with it, but Rose stopped him with a firm shake of her head.
“Mum told you no sonic in the kitchen.”
With a sigh, the Doctor waited for the water to boil the normal way (“we could’ve gone in the TARDIS, and not needed to wait!”) and accepted his cup of tea once it was ready.
“Allons-y!” he said in place of “cheers”, and took a sip.
Rose couldn’t help but think how different this Doctor was from the one her mother had traveled with, the one she remembered through the metacrisis. That Doctor would never have just sat there, peacefully, drinking tea, with no greater worries than the tulips in the back garden.
The Doctor coughed, jolting Rose out of her reflections.
“You all right?” she asked.
“Molto bene,” he replied, but he started to cough again, dropping the cup of tea, which shattered loudly on the floor. “What was—in this tea—again?” he managed between spasms, his eyes widening.
Rose felt a worried little swoop in her chest. “I’m not sure.” She fumbled for the box, which had a list of herbs and their medicinal, flavor, and spiritual properties written on it in beautiful but unfortunately hard-to-read calligraphy. “Er, mint, willow bark, lavender—”
The Doctor held up a hand. “Willow bark?” He was grimacing; his breathing sounded like he’d been running for a long time.
Cold settled in Rose’s stomach. “Yes…?”
The Doctor had gone a worrying shade of red, and he was starting to wheeze, sounding a bit like the TARDIS. “I…Time Lords…allergic…”
“You’re allergic?” Rose exclaimed.
“Like…aspi…rin,” he forced out, doubling over as he struggled to breathe. “Resp’tory…bypass…” He stopped.
Rose tried not to panic. “What do I do? Is there something in the TARDIS? An EpiPen?” She knew she couldn’t call 999; they weren’t equipped to deal with Time Lords. UNIT, then? Her mum, or someone who worked with her?
The Doctor shook his head. “Chk…” he wheezed, his face going even redder.
“Choking? You’re choking?” Rose said.
He shook his head more vehemently. “Chk…chk!”
“You’re not making sense,” said Rose, grabbing his hands. “Sorry, Uncle Doctor, I don’t know what you’re saying!”
“Mm!” He tore one hand away and pointed in the direction of the cupboard.
“There’s something in here that can help?” Rose said.
“Mhm!” He was looking more purple than red now, and Rose knew she didn’t have much time.
She rifled through the cupboard, calling out items and seeing how the Doctor responded. “Tea? Coffee? No, okay…”
The Doctor was still shaking his head with each item she called out.
“Marshmallows?” she said hopelessly.
He stared at her, communicating Why the HECK would it be marshmallows?! surprisingly clearly for someone who was barely able to breathe.
“All right, not marshmallows then! Um…” She moved several more tins, suddenly terrified. What would happen if the Doctor regenerated? Would he turn into the other Doctor? Would he just disappear? She couldn’t have that, not when he’d just moved in, not when he’d finally begun to feel at home.
“Chk!” The Doctor wheezed again, and finally, finally, Rose knew what he meant.
“Chocolate?” she cried, grabbing the bag of chocolate chips that had been languishing at the back of the cupboard. The moment he nodded in confirmation, she tore open the bag and handed it to him.
The Doctor shoved a handful of chocolate chips into his mouth, then another, then simply tipped the bag up and poured the rest directly down his throat. Rose watched, slightly appalled, as he finished the entire bag.
Against all odds, it seemed to do the trick. The Doctor was now his usual colour (if a little more chocolatey), and his breathing was only heavy, no longer harsh and gasping.
“Blimey,” he said.
“Are you okay? Can you breathe? Do you need anything else?” Rose said, still afraid he’d start wheezing again.
“Nah, ’m fine,” he said, waving a hand. “Although. Lot of chocolate. Might need to not ever eat chocolate again.”
Rose sighed. The Doctor wasn’t in danger of dying anymore, but… “I should have checked the ingredients on the tea,” she finally said.
“I should’ve done,” said the Doctor. “Imagine, me, the Oncoming Storm, done in by a little tea.”
Rose had done, unfortunately. The image of her alien uncle gasping for air in the middle of their kitchen wasn’t something she’d forget anytime soon.
“Bit of a mess,” said the Doctor, tilting his head.
He was right. There were chocolate chips and shards of teacup all over the floor, along with the rest of the Doctor’s tea. The unhelpful bag of marshmallows cowered behind the counter where Rose had dropped it. The kitchen couldn’t be called anything less than a disaster.
“What,” she said, “are we going to tell Mum?”