He stroked the fuzzy growth on his face for the third time that morning. He thought that after 900 years, he could successfully control his hair growth, but obviously that wasn't true.
"How ironic." He thought. "It's 9 o’clock in the morning and I've got 5 o'clock shadow." He'd been tinkering with the flight controls for three straight days now. Rose had been bugging him about popping home for a change of clothes, the period costumes and elegant robes she had found in the wardrobe room obviously not to her taste. After his drastic mistake with the whole Cardiff/Naples thing, he didn't want Rose stepping off on some far flung planet, but as he mused, the right time zone.
Speaking of a change of clothes, she was not the only one who could do with freshening up. His v-neck was ringed with sweat and pocked with small burn marks where realigned electrical wires had sparked him. His only thought was that he had been thankful he'd taken his prized jacket off first. Not that he was vain, but he wanted to impress her, and couldn't really do that smelling like something a cat had dragged in. Hastily welding the last remaining panel in place, he jumped up and sauntered off to change and find where the TARDIS had been hiding the bathroom.
He whipped up the foam in the little pot until it bubbled over the side, and applied liberally to the contours of his face. Finally after much pacing the corridors, he'd not only found a fully furnished bath suite, but one with an undamaged mirror to boot. After his regeneration, he'd had a task of finding one that wasn't cracked, or distorted, as if the TARDIS was teasing him into querying his new image. When finally he'd caught a glimpse of himself in Rose's flat, he was pleased. Quite handsome really. Apart from the ears. Oh well, that was the trouble with telebiogenesis; you never know what you were going to get.
He slipped out of his clothes and slipped a large white bath towel around his hips. Not a bad body either come to think about it. A bit thin. Wiry, though. Not lanky or emmaciated. Everything in the right place, too. He smirked. Oh if Rose could see him now, what would she think?. At the rememberance of her name and how she looked in that dress, he felt a sudden twitch in an inappropriate place, and thought that once all this shaving business was done, he'd treat himself to a REALLY cold shower.
He ran some steaming water into the sink unit and cleaned the blade of the menacing looking razor. He'd picked it up in Victorian London, some time during the Magnus Greel incident. He'd never got round to using it before, probably because he'd usually had a stock of disposables lying around somewhere, but again the TARDIS was being characteristically obtuse. That and the control-thy-own-hair-growth factor. He caught himself looking ominously at the blade, and suddenly thinking horrific thoughts; that of shining steel slipping deep into his cool, yielding flesh.
He shook himself thoroughly, to rid himself of such self-destructive imagery, small flecks of soap spattered the bathroom tiles, and went back to the task in hand. He stroked the razor gingerly over the skin of his throat and his chin, feeling already the benefits of smoother skin. He repeated the motion on the other side, carefully avoiding the small bump on his right cheek, that if his study of skin topography was correct, was an indication of courage. He was just finishing when a voice behind him, distracted him.
"Doctor, what are you doing?"
He felt a small spasm of pain as the blade cut a small nick in his skin, making him yelp. He dropped the razor in the sink, where it was swiftly followed by small flowering droplets of his blood. He whiped the remaining soap from his face and spun round to face his questioner.
Rose was standing in the doorway, in an outsize pink fluffy dressing gown, holding a similar looking towel. He felt the unnerving twitch in his groin again.
"Don't you ever bloody knock?"
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing. I'm shaving."
"Shaving? You shaving? That's a bit…."
“Well… a bit…”
“Oh.” The Doctor looked slightly perturbed.
“I thought aliens didn't have to shave."
"Well I do. I have hair on my head don't I?
"And eyebrows...and eyelashes."
"Yeah", she replied. She glanced over his body. He had a nice body. A very nice body. She also noticed had a small tuft in the centre of his chest. It gave her a small thrill trying to guess where else he might have hair.
He looked very beautiful. For an alien.
But oh so human. So unnervingly human.
"Why did you assume that I didn't have to shave."
He felt a small drop run down his cheek. She noticed it too. He quickly brushed it away and looked at it.
"Doctor. you've cut yourself. You're bleeding."
"Yeah, no thanks to you.
She ran up to him and dabbed at the cut with a corner of her towel.
"There we go. It's stopped now."
Something made her start as she looked at the blood stains on the fringing of her towel. His blood. It was red. Bright red. Just like hers.
He looked into her startled brown eyes and guessed what she was thinking.
"Doctor, you are alien, right? I mean you said you were..."
"Well, actually you were the one that asked me. And I told the truth. I said yes."
He knew what the next question was going to be.
"Exactly how alien are you?"
He took her small hand in his and placed it on the left hand side of his chest, just under his collarbone. His skin felt surprisingly cool in the warm bathroom.
"What can you feel?"
He picked up her left hand and placed it on the other side of his chest.
"Now, what do you feel?"
"Your...Oh my God."
He clasped her hands together in his and drawing her close, smiled compassionately.
"That's how alien I am."
She looked into the deep pools of his radiant blue eyes, and lost herself. She was suddenly shocked out of her daydream by feeling something hard, warm and unmistakable rising against the folds of her robe. However instead of backing away she teasingly pressed herself closer.
"Not as alien as you'd like to think you are, though." She purred.
He reddened with embarrassment and pushing her slightly away turned back quickly to the mirror.
"Please, Rose. I need to finish. Then you can have the whole bathroom to yourself.
She shrugged. "Ok, then." She padded towards the door. "But if you are going to shave, try one of these, instead of something that looks like a prop from 'Sweeney Todd'."
She flung him what looked like a packet of cheap disposable razors.
"Where the hell did you find those? I been looking for them everywhere!"
"Bedside cabinet. I think your ship knows you ain't the only living being that got to shave around here."
She bit her tongue in a cheeky smile and slipped through the door.
"Humans," sighed the Doctor and started to soap his face up again.