The Oncoming Storm:
Sypnopsis: What would have happened if Rose had witnessed the song Madame had layed on the Doctor.
Warning: Violence is key. Despisers and Haters of Madame De Pompadour, you just MIGHT want to read this. Otherwise...read it anyway and forgive me.
Disclaimer: Naturally, anything you might recognize doesn't belong to me, except for maybe the Confetti and party hats Mickey and the Doctor use...
Thanks to: Scout Girl, who has been a totally good BETA who has changed just a few words. XD
Oneshot, brilliantly fluffy and humerous.
Rated T for Violence.
The Oncoming Storm
Rose and Mickey stumbled out of the ship into a bedroom and stared.
"Rose—" Mickey began, grabbing her arm and trying to turn her away from the sight that affronted them, but she took no heed, as her face grew red with anger and silent tears slid down her face. She fought him off distantly as her mind recoiled at the fact that some lady (pretty at that) was snogging her Doctor. Rose was about to run into the spaceship and never speak to him again when she froze. He did something else. He snogged her back and wrapped his arms around her waist.
So she did the only thing she could think of.
She dashed towards them, despite Mickey's calls and warnings, and wrenched the girl off of the Doctor. Then she began to slap her, hard. "How—" slap. "Dare—" slap. "You—" slap. "Snog—" slap. "The—" slap. "DOCTOR!!" Mighty slap. With a final, "Get your dirty and filthy paws off of him!" Rose stepped back, taking a breath, but she was on her guard, even as she relaxed slightly.
The Doctor took the opportunity to escape to the sidelines where Mickey already stood, watching and helpless. "I TOLD you not to run off!" the Doctor told Mickey, running his hands through his gelled hair in exasperation. Mickey tossed him a cold glare and said nothing. They both watched as Madame de Pompadour (A/N: she is strictly this title in this Fan Fiction.) retaliated with only harsh words.
"How DARE you slap me!!" Madame de Pompadour shrieked out, horror and anger evident in her voice and on her face.
"You're not the king's lover yet, Madame de Pompaface," Rose shot back, dancing around her, jealousy over the Doctor and glee at having slapped the famous and ungrateful wench in her eyes. She began seeking for more opportunities.
She was so preoccupied with her rant and the advantage that she had that she didn't notice the Doctor watching her with pride and mock horror. He started gripping his head, but it was not from Rose's insults. "Oh, good job, Rose, way to spoil the future for her—DON'T use THAT punch, Rose—That's right! Go for the killer!" He watched and beamed as she landed one right on Madame's nose. Blood spurted ten feet. (-Cough-exaggeration-slight exaggeration only-cough-)
"Excuse me?" the lady stopped wincing and blinked, not used to seeing so much blood. (She may have been talking to the Doctor who shouted: "Don't faint," cheerfully, but Rose answered anyway)
"You'll find out soon enough," Rose replied sarcastically, kicking her in the…corset.
"Oooofffff!" Madame de Pompadour landed with a thud then struggled to move her skirts out of the way to get back up. This seemed to be the last straw for Madame, and she lifted a hand to slap Rose, across the face, but Rose was quicker than she, and caught Madame's wrist in her hand and twisted it, causing her to wince in pain.
"Go Rose, go Rose!" Mickey cheered.
"Shouldn't one of us try to stop it?" the Doctor ventured.
Mickey looked over at him as if he were batty.
"Quite right," the Doctor muttered, and both continued to cheer their favourite girl on. (Rose, of course, if you haven't clued in yet.)
Rose seemed encouraged by this bout of enthusiasm—especially when the Doctor and Mickey both got out party hats and confetti (from somewhere)—and sent a hard punch—right in connection with Madame's jaw, knocking the latter out cold.
The Doctor and Mickey both cheered and applauded, throwing the confetti. But Rose wasn't done. Still glaring darkly she walked over to the two men, who were still celebrating her victory.
"Brilliant, Rose," the Doctor began babbling as she neared him, still glaring. "That was absolutely—" she cut him off by slapping him soundly and hard, leaving a clear, pink imprint upon his cheek. He remained startled.
"That was for snogging Madame over there," she told him irritably, and slapped him again. "That was for wrapping your arms around her ridiculously-small-corseted-waist," she continued bitterly, and slapped him again. "That was for cheering me on—" she choked out, right before slapping him once more with all of her might, the force blowing him back more than just slightly.
He caught her hand before she could slap him again.
"Rose," he whispered softly, but she shook her head and pulled away from him quickly, hot tears spilling down her cheeks.
"Don't," came her broken whisper. Mickey took charge then and wrapped an arm around her and carefully raised her bruised knuckles, examining them.
"Let's go get you some ice," he told her softly. She nodded and Mickey led Rose past the Doctor and back through the secret passage from whence they had come.
The Doctor sighed softly and crouched down to where the knocked-out Madame de Pompadour lay. He put a hand on her forehead and let a surge of power flow through him.
There was at least one thing he could offer Rose.
Madame de Pompaface would not remember her ever being there.
"Rose?" the Doctor tentatively called out, entering the TARDIS, assuming that Mickey would have taken her to somewhere where she was comfortable and safe.
"She's never going to speak to you again," Mickey told him wearily, hearing his call and coming to meet him.
"I was afraid of that," the Doctor murmured softly and painfully, mostly to himself. "Where is she?"
Mickey glared at him. "You'd think I'd tell you?"
The Doctor swallowed the irritation he felt.
"Fine, how is she?"
"You saw for yourself."
"Listen, Mickey—"
"If you had found happiness in 'er, would you 'ave come back?" Mickey suddenly interrupted, shaking his head slowly. "I wouldn't." He continued to shake his head, backing away, still facing him. "Then, to top it all off, you go break Rose's heart!" his words came out harshly as his eyes hardened. "Okay, fine, I'm jealous. I'll be the first to admit it, though don't tell Rose that." He added quickly "…I knew we weren't to be, though I tried to deny it. Just…" he choked, glaring into the Doctor's eyes. The nerve of that man—alien treating Rose like that. She didn't deserve it, for all she had ever done was love and save him. "Just, just seeing you and your friendship—relationship—I don't know what it bloody is. But seeing you two…and your…connection, your bond…If Rose came back with me—" he snapped suddenly, ruthless. "Who'd you think she would be consistently jabbering on about? It wouldn't matter that I was there. Don't you notice—don't you even see the way she looks at you? She never looked at me that way—" He suddenly stopped. "Why am I telling you all this?'
The Doctor shrugged, trying not to show just how hard Mickey's words had hit him. Of course she cared for him. She always had.
He had just been too dumb to see it.
He cared for her too, just like she cared for him. Somehow he had always known, even if it had taken an idiot such as Mickey to make him realize it. It was time to see Rose.
"Mickey, show me where she is."
The Doctor entered the library quietly, and found Rose curled up in a large chair by the fireplace, an icepack covering her injured hand, just staring into the fire, absorbing its warmth.
Moving quickly, in one swift motion he had her sitting on his lap and was examining her hand gently. Rose pulled away when he had done this and was about to get up when he captured her firmly.
"Rose," he whispered softly. She glared at him and continued to try and get out of his grip. "Please don't fight me on this," he pleaded softly and painfully. She shot him another withering glare and ceased to struggle. He pulled her more comfortably onto his lap and she didn't refrain from being cradled against his chest. He turned her in such a way that they were facing each other. "Rose—"
"I…I hate you for leaving, I hate you for—" she started pounding his chest blindly with her fists, hard enough to hurt slightly. He held her still, letting her hands pound him. "I hate you for everythin—" her words ended in choking, painful, heart-wrenching sobs as she gave up her pounding. He pulled her in tighter into his arms again, his own voice choked as she rested her head against his chest, blubbering loudly.
"Rose, darling, I'm so sorry. It wasn't on purp—" he stopped, rocking her back and forth slowly and decided to try again. "I'm so sorry, Rose. I am so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, and I don't want to again either, if it's the last thing I do."
He groaned softly to himself, and hoped after what he was about to do she would forgive him. He tipped up her chin and gently snogged her; all thoughts of Madame de Pompadour gone from his head as Rose completely invaded his mind. He was vaguely aware that her left hand slowly rose to curl around his chin and her injured one to gently rest against his back. One of his hands moved swiftly from her chin to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss.
Releasing her mouth slowly, letting it linger, the Doctor breathed in gently, feeling Rose do the exact same thing.
Rose rested her cheek against his chest, feeling his two hearts pound. "I forgive you," she murmured against him, her tears gone. She heard his chuckle.
"Rose," he spoke softly.
"Yes?" she whispered, raising her head ever so slightly.
"I meant every single millisecond," he replied, smiling invitingly at her while a challenge danced in his eyes. She rose to the challenge (literally) and sweetly snogged him back, earning a crick in the neck at the awkward positioning, but it was worth it.
The Doctor was gorgeous, heart stopping, adventurous, everything she wanted. The Doctor was the world to her.
The Doctor was finally hers.