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It wasn’t meant to be raining on this planet. The Doctor had said it was a desert, that it never rained, and had laughed and laughed when Rose tried to slip a brolly into her bag. She’d gotten distracted by his laughter, and left it on the console of the TARDIS. And now, of course, they were caught in a near-torrential downpour. The Doctor was holding his coat over them both while they sprinted around the marketplace, trying to find somewhere they could take cover. Finally, they found a little alcove between two stalls, a place where the roofs met but the walls didn’t, and hid there, dripping.
Rose shivered slightly; she had dressed for the desert planet this allegedly was, and now she was soaked to the skin, and she was certain she looked like a drowned rat. She turned a bit to see the Doctor staring at her steadily for a moment.
“Here, hold this,” he said, handing her his coat. She took it on instinct, not bothering to ask what he was up to now. He shrugged out of his jacket, somehow still dry (or at least drier than Rose), and draped it around her shoulders before he took back his coat. “That ought to help. I’ll go bring round the TARDIS.” And then he yanked his coat on and sprinted off through the rain to where they’d left the TARDIS.
The TARDIS materialized a few minutes later just outside the little sheltered spot, and Rose darted forward as the Doctor opened the door. The moment she was inside, he slid the jacket off her shoulders and wrapped her in a towel. “Go get changed, you’ll catch cold like this,” he insisted, shoving her playfully down the hall. Rose muttered something about mother hens, but smiled as she went to change into dry clothes.
When she came back out, dressed comfortably in flannel pajamas, the Doctor called from the kitchen for her to head for the sitting room. Not like she knew where that was, but there were the directions. She reached for a door that last week had led to a library, and found behind it a sitting room with fireplace and couch. She sighed.
Honestly, she’d spent hours wandering the halls, and rooms were still surprising her. She could always find her own and the main room, and usually could find the Doctor’s, but everything else occurred according to chance. She was fairly certain the TARDIS did it on purpose.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the Doctor said, passing a cup of tea to Rose where she sat with her back to the sofa and face to the fireplace. She startled, not having heard him come in. He didn’t look sorry at all, more delighted, as if they’d had a grand adventure instead of just getting caught in the rain.
“Oh, you’ll find a way to make it up to me,” Rose said. “Perhaps a holiday.”
“What, a holiday from a holiday?” he laughed, settling down next to her. His legs spread in front of them while Rose’s tucked to the side, under the blanket he’d had ready for her when she’d first come in the room.
“Why is it your holidays always end with us in trouble?” she bantered back. The Doctor stretched languorously, draping an arm around her shoulder, trying to be casual. Rose smirked, but leaned gratefully into him, letting her breathing settle to match his as his heartbeats filled her ears.
“Trouble’s the only real way to have any fun, Rose,” he replied easily. Rose scoffed, but let him pull her a bit closer and play with the ends of her drying hair, keeping her eyes focused now on the warm flames in the hearth. He might always get them into trouble, but he was her Doctor. And nothing could ever change that.